


True to Yourself

by Fantismal



Series: Believe in Yourself [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye (Youtube), Markiplier (YouTube), Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: And one instance of unintentional animal neglect with no lasting damage, But also still-YouTubers-AU, Daniel Kyre is mentioned quite a bit, M/M, Most of the named characters are minor ones, Non-Graphic Violence, One character has a nasty potty mouth, SPEED IS KEY, The Marvel universe is all docudrama stuff, The rating is for all the bad language and one smutty chapter, Warfstache isn't one of Mark's characters, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By day a YouTuber, by night something more, Jack McLoughlin has a hard enough time staying on top of his work, much less balancing a long distance relationship (maybe?), saving the world from giant bug monsters, and fending off the advances of a man who thinks a bright pink mustache is the height of good fashion. The last thing he needs is to let his two lives come crashing together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter the Supers

**Author's Note:**

> And so I begin the slippery slide into sin.
> 
> I already love this fandom.
> 
> New chapters will be posted every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Speed was as silent as space with nothing else moving to transmit sound. The horizon blurred and dimmed, fading to purple in front of him, fading to red behind. Jack bobbed and weaved as he raced through the frozen city, careful not to touch a single civilian. The kinetic energy he could transfer with just a nudge… well, there was an alien, and he let his shoulder brush the creature’s spines as he darted past. It flew off its feet the moment they made contact, freezing in place again as soon as it had been thrown out of touch. Not  _ entirely  _ frozen, though. The monster was moving at an incremental speed. To the casual observer, it had already splattered against the steel office building behind it. To Jack, it was still caught in that moment of suspended agony, confused, reeling, soon to realize it was about to die.

One little grunt wasn’t enough. They had to take down the mother queener hivemind thingy. She was still many blocks away, and Jack was working hard to not hit a single civilian in their glacial panicked flee.

On his back, arms tightened. Jack couldn’t spare a hand to reach up and pat his passenger in reassurance. He had to keep his arms pumping to keep forcing air in and out of his lungs. In this moment in time, his brain couldn’t operate his lungs fast enough to keep up. He had to do it manually.

_ Maybe get that added to the suit… _

Mental note done, Jack raced up a car, trying to suck in as much air as he could before leaping up to snatch one of the flying alien scooter things. His passenger squeaked, close enough to his ear that he heard it three jumps later. He felt her legs squeeze tighter around his waist and bared his teeth in a feral smile.  _ We’ll make it. I know what I’m doing. _

The alien vehicle teetered in a crash dive behind Jack as he leapt from one to the next. Almost, almost, almost…there! The queener reared above the crowd, almost as tall as the buildings around her. Her antennae were waving slowly back and forth, but Jack knew that meant they had to be almost supersonic. He tilted his chin toward them and felt a nod against the back of his suit. Good. She got the message. Jack kicked an alien off its flyer and let himself slow down.

Colors snapped back into place as soon as sound did, and his back bowed as the momentum of his passenger pressed forward. “I’m never gonna be used to that,” she grumbled, her voice tight with the urge not to vomit across Jack’s shoulder.

“Wuss!” Jack laughed, kicking the machine into gear and zipping up the monster’s side. “You got this?”

“Got it…” The death-grip behind him loosened, and the legs dropped off his waist. She was standing behind him now, holding on for balance more than dear life. “Get ready to jump!”

“You first!” Jack cackled as the queener swung angrily at the little flyer hijacked by a human. He twisted it out of her reach, barely, and pushed up higher, higher, higher…

Just as he cleared the queen’s shoulder…ish thing, the arms holding him let go. Jack gunned the flyer straight for the monster’s face and dove off as she swung again. He caught her arm and started the long race down, nearly vertical, screaming half in joy and half in terror the whole run.

“Mind not shouting so damn loud?” The voice in his ear when Jack reached the bottom was nearly static-free. “Not all of us live at a million fucking miles an hour.”

“Sorry, Brainer!” Jack screamed, to mixed chuckles and groans from the rest of the team.

“You did ask for that.” That was Cutie’s cockney bass backing Jack up. “But then again, there’s no point in him talking when he’s moving fast. We can’t understand anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know about thaaaat.” Warfstache had a very pronounced way of drawing out his vowels that always spiked a shiver down Jack’s spine. “Woooorghlbleaahaaaaaaaaaaaaa sounds like a _veeeeeery_ good time to mee…”

“Shut up,” Jack grumbled, glad for the helmet that hid his flushed cheeks. Warf had a way of making everything sound so dirty. “We got eyes yet?”

“Eyes,” confirmed Jack’s passenger from earlier, the invisible Sight. “Brain, we’ve got a hive here.”

Brain ( _ The  _ Brain to people who he didn’t consider close friends) heaved a sigh across their comms. “ _ Again _ ? That’s the third fucking time this year!”

“And it’s only April!” Cutie chuckled deeply. “We know the drill, Brain. Going avian.”

Jack took to his heels again, building up momentum before going vertical up a building to hide in the awning. It wasn’t exactly an  _ incredibly  _ secure position, but it kept him away from the panicked civilians until the rest of the team caught up. Cutie was the first, a red-tailed hawk swooping between the city’s skyscrapers to land on Jack’s shoulder, digging talons into the red nylon of his suit. Jack grinned behind his tinted visor, reaching up to stroke Cuties gleaming feathers. “I am  _ so  _ jealous,” he murmured to the hawk.

“I can give you something to be jealous of.” Warf had come up beneath them with a massive gun strapped across his back nearly as big as he was. Not that that was saying much. Warf was one of their shortest supers. Shortest of the males, at least. Jack wisely never commented on it, lest Warf discover that Jack’s 1.2395 inch superiority was due more to the hidden lifts in his special super-suit boots and not due to his Irish genes.

The pink-clad super on the ground waggled his mustache and grinned up at Jack. “Ready for me to shoot my load, baaaaaby?”

“Oh god…” Jack groaned, shaking his head. He knew better than to offer Warf help. The pink super was exceptionally proficient at things that went “boom.” The bigger, the better. “You’re gonna have to get some new material one of these days!”

“Whyyyy should I, when the old stuff always works!?” Warf dropped to one knee, the massive gun resting across his shoulder now. “Sight, throat, all clear?”

There was a pause as all the supers held their breath, waiting for a response from their eyes on the alien. Sight was invisible and somewhere on the queen monster. Warf had a target, but he didn’t dare fire unless he knew she was out of the way. For all his bluster and swagger, the pink man did know how to be a team player.

“Left arm,” came Sight’s somewhat breathless affirmative. “Holding on to one of these bracer things. Key, you’d better be ready to catch me if I drop!”

“Make yourself visible and I won’t miss!” Key, that was Jack’s hero name. Key, as in “Speed is.” If Sight fell, Jack could be right below her in the space of a normal human’s heartbeat…as long as he knew where she was.

Warf’s gun fired with a percussive  _ whumph  _ that shoved him back an inch, his boots scoring grooves in the asphalt. His body had swollen in size beneath his armor, his adapative powers taking over to prevent him from damage.

“It’s going to miss.” Luna, the team’s battlefield healer, stood off to the side, watching with her hooded head cocked to the side. “She already started to do-” the queen’s right arm swung around, knocking the missile off-course. “-that.”

“Drat!”

Jack’s blood ran cold as the Brain swore like a second-grader. The gentler his vocabulary became, the more the team was screwing up.

“That’s a residential building!”

“On it!” Jack shook Cutie off his arm, hopping off the awning. He had about seven seconds, maybe eight, to get to the other side of the fight and hope he could get that missile turned away.

A pink hand closed around his wrist just before he took off, and Warfstache ended up pulled along for the ride. While his expressions were muted by the garish luchador-style face mask he’d chosen and the huge pink handlebar mustache sticking out the front, Jack could still glance back and see how screwed up it was.  _ Idiot, _ he thought fondly. Riding with him was safest on his back. Warf was going to be developing an iron stomach over the course of this run. Still, Jack twisted his hand around to hold Warf’s wrist, making sure the other super didn’t fall out of his speed. Even Warf’s adaptive nature might not be enough to prevent him from peeling the skin off his flesh with a fall like that.

The trick to running  _ up  _ a skyscraper was to not look down. As long as you could run faster than gravity could pull you back, all was good. If you reminded your brain that gravity was there, though, then suddenly you’d feel it. As soon as you felt it, you lost. Jack could remember the first few times he tried to scraper-run. It hadn’t ended well. His fear of heights and basic grasp of physics kept turning him into a clumsy mess. If it hadn’t been for Warf at the bottom to catch him in a  _ very  _ soft embrace, Jack would have had to take a work hiatus.

That was the thing about Warf, Jack mused as he ran almost peacefully up the glass windows of a forty-story building, a pink man clinging to one arm. He had the most ridiculously huge ego of  _ any  _ man (and Jack was close to Markiplier and Pewdiepie!), and yet when Jack was in a bind, he couldn’t ask for a better friend. Warf  _ always  _ had his back, horrible flirtations and all, and he  _ was  _ capable of being serious. Sometimes. When Jack needed him to be. When anyone needed him to be, really. And there was no one better in a fight. Warf was practically unkillable, and he didn’t let a bit of pain stop him. If you needed a tank, a shield, or just someone at your back, you wanted Warfstache. Jack could get you out of trouble. Warf would get you through it.

Trouble like now. Jack cleared the top of the building and sprawled across the roof, wishing he had three minutes to calm the reptilian corner of his mind gibbering like a maniac at how he’d run up. Straight up. A  _ building _ ! Holy Jesus!

Warf dropped to his knees, dry-heaving once before shoving up and sprinting to the edge. He hurled himself off, trusting Jack to launch after him and grab his ankle just in time for Warf to swing his arms out and  _ shove _ the missile up. It shot past Jack’s helmet, exploding twenty feet above them and showering hot shrapnel. Thank god for Ripper’s fantastic costuming skills. Jack felt peppered with light pebbles as the man-killing metal stuck into his suit and didn’t manage to pierce his flesh. “Warf? You alive down there?”

“Just enjoying yoooooou enjoying the vieeeeeew.” Warfstache kicked his free leg wide, dangling over a hundred feet in the air and shamelessly shaking his crotch up at Jack.

“Oh yeah,” Jack deadpanned, leaning back to haul Warfstache up. “You know how much I love looking at your codpiece.”

Warf was giggling helplessly by the time he could fold himself in half to help Jack get him onto the roof, staggering around a few steps before sinking down, still chuckling breathlessly. Jack had to start laughing too, flopping down against the roof edge. Forget the aliens rampaging down below for a minute. They had just bolted across Tokyo and redirected a ballistic rocket with nothing more than their bare hands and a lot of talent.

“Fuck, we’re awesome,” Warf said, reaching over to pat Jack’s shoulder.

“Some might even say…  _ super. _ ”

That set Warf off again, the pink super folding sideways into Jack’s arm, and Warf’s laughter always got Jack laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, well done you bloody cunts, but in case you’ve forgotten,  _ hive _ !” The Brain buzzed angrily in their ears, and Warf slapped at the side of his head in annoyance.

“We’re ooooon it, we’re oooooon it, geeeeeez, you don’t have to yeeeeeell…”

“That’s my job,” Jack mumbled, climbing back to his feet. “Warf, get on my back this time.”

“You don’t have to invite meeeee twice!”

Jack rolled his eyes as Warf mounted him piggy-back (and being way too forward with that codpiece), but he was grinning as he raced toward the edge of the building again.

“GERONIMO!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE thank you to [eltrkbarbarella](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eltrkbarbarella/pseuds/Eltrkbarbarella) for putting up with all of my freaking out about this. I'm sure she suffered so much at my hands.


	2. Follow the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even superheroes need to be debriefed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork in this chapter was drawn by the oh-so-amazing [Eltrkbarbarella](http://rainbowcheesecake.tumblr.com/post/147569967237/here-is-the-fanart-for-fantismal-s-fanfic-true)! Check out better versions on her Tumblr.
> 
> (Why is Jack red and not green? Because red's his favorite color, and Key came before SepticEye)

Winning a fight always brought an adrenaline high, and the supers were whooping and high-fiving each other as they tumbled back into Central Command. They had no idea where the cliched secret underground headquarters actually was, but they were assured it didn't matter. Alien tech brought them back every time. What was the point of a secret if they knew coordinates?

The Brain lumbered toward them, the sole exception to the rule that all superheroes must be covered head-to-toe with no hint at their true identities. Standing just over six feet, there was no suit able to disguise the huge mass of flesh that was The Brain: the man was practically spherical. He did try to dress the part, but even Ripper, their costumer ( _Seam_ Ripper, you violent people!) could only do so much. The Brain dressed in black: it was slimming. He had a shiny helmet similar to Jack's, but the Brain's was much more high-tech, connecting him with all of the supers and CC soldiers throughout the world, translating when necessary. Pink, fleshy arms were left exposed by the oversized t-shirt he wore, and the biggest pair of black sweatpants in the world just barely contained his legs. His chubby fingers strained at black half-gloves, looking like sausages gone _very_ bad. The Brain was five hundred pounds if he was one. There was a reason he didn't join them in active duty.

Well, his size and the fact that his incredible intelligence served them much better from headquarters, where he had any information he needed at the touch of a finger and an entire team at his beck and call. Sight was his presence on the battlefield, his eyes and ears on the ground. He needed nothing more.

"Electrode!" Brain bellowed. "Electrode, you motherfucker, you didn't turn your comm on!"

Jack glanced at the team that had come back. Electrode had been with them?

Cutie frowned at their de facto leader. "Electrode didn't show."

"What do you mean, he didn't show?" Brain asked. "I sent him along right after Warfstache. He should have been on your heels."

"We could have used his lightning," Jack said, shaking his head slowly. "He wasn't there."

"I told you I didn't see him." Sight folded her arms, visible for once. She was the exact opposite of the Brain, a slim, short woman without much extra weight beneath her green morphsuit (green was the only color Ripper could make invisible along with the heroine). Off the battlefield, the two held barely-concealed distaste for each other. Jack wasn't entirely sure why. Sure, the Brain was huge and foul-mouthed and maybe a bit smarmy, but he was the main reason they kept coming back victorious.

"I sent him," Brain repeated slowly, as if they were idiots (or maybe just to confirm to himself). "He was here, I sent him along..." He took a deep breath and gave a sharp shake of his head. "You know the drill!" he barked. "Debrief-" (and Warfstache gave an obligatory giggle) "-with the controllers," Brain continued, obligatorily ignoring the pink super, "make note of any needed costume repairs, and get home. Await further orders."

There was a chorus of lackluster "Yes sirs," (and one middle finger from Sight), and the supers turned to find their assigned controller to give their information to.

"Wanna debrieeeeef with meeeeee?" Warf asked Jack as they headed down the gleaming white hall together. "Who needs a controoooooller, eh? We booooth know the questions..."

"You know I have a partner," Jack scolded Warf, bumping their shoulders together anyway.

Warf heaved an exaggerated sigh, his own shoulders drooping. "I but live and dream, my friend, live and dream..."

_Not that anything could happen with Warfstache_ , Jack later mused as he stripped out of his costume in the private changing rooms. (These weren't even monitored by camera, so secret were the supers' identities. Warf had tested that.)

Not even if Jack wasn't kind of, sort of, technically yes, but officially not really, dating Markiplier. (It confused even them, okay?) Just admitting that there was another, gender-non-specific person in Jack's life was skating dangerously close to violating the "no personal information" rules. The supers _needed_ to be anonymous. Their very survival depended upon it.

Everyone knew about the true superheroes, the plucky group some twenty years ago who had held off an alien invasion force. There had been genuine forces of nature, men enhanced by serums or radiation. There had been the truly extraordinary, people who had devoted their entire lives to training to super-human skills with nothing more than sheer willpower to drive them. There was the billionaire playboy who had built himself superpowers (and led to the funding of the current institution), and the gods that had defied all human explanation. They had come together, and fought, and won. Movies and comic books had been made about them. _Everyone_ knew them.

But everyone also knew that they hadn't won fast enough. The attack on New York City had been a distraction. All around the world, the aliens had snuck into nurseries and classrooms, snatching young children and infecting them with viruses, diseases that had run amok in their veins and changed their DNA. Human children were suddenly mutating impossible powers and simultaneously displaying the infamous lack of control of toddlers everywhere.

There had been many deaths at the hands of those children before the problem was contained.

Jack had been one of the infected. He wasn't a superhero. He was a freak. He knew it. The only thing that kept the world from turning on him, from tearing him to pieces in his bed, was the fact that the world didn't know it. As long as he behaved, hid his powers, pretended to be normal, he was safe.

That was where Central Command, the CC, came in. The original superheroes hadn't been working in isolation. An entire-world collaboration unit had dedicated perfectly normal humans to back them up, to scour the world for the mutated children, and to round them up. Several thousand kids were too much to contain. The ones with normal-looking mutations, like Jack's super speed or Warfstache's ability to adapt to survive, had microchips embedded in their bodies and were given back to their parents, with CC swearing that they had been treated and the mutations were gone. Others with more-noticeable changes simply... disappeared. CC took those children in and raised them in secure areas where they would not be harmed by the frightened normal civilians of the world, nor could they harm them in return. Jack suspected that the Brain was one such super, far too grotesquely huge to pass unnoticed outside.

Memories ended up modified. Memories _always_ ended up modified. Children had accidents, even the ones old enough to have some semblance of control. Jack remembered a childhood of going with his mum to see the "special doctor," having to wear a ski mask tugged over his face and answering to his microchip number in order to keep his identity secret from the men and women who taught him how to understand his powers and keep them hidden. His mum only had vague recollections of those trips, and the rest of his family didn't even notice that Jack had been an unusually "sick" child. Memories were modified. No one was told.

The entire world was too big to forget, so CC concocted a story. Infected children were taken away, kept locked up. They were too dangerous to mingle with the normal people. The diseases that had given them powers had also stripped them of their basic humanity. According to the CC propaganda, the super children were little more than mindless creatures, and they would not be permitted to harm another human

As the supers grew older, their microchip numbers slowly morphed into nicknames. Cutie, for example, had a chip that started CT13. CT13 became Cutie, and the burly bear of a teenager thought it too hilarious to pass up. Warfstache started dressing in pink on a dare, and because he was Warf, took it to the extreme of the exposed pink handlebar mustache, which slowly became part of his name. Jack had raced around screaming "SPEED IS KEY!" until Sight started giggling that Key was Speed, and thus his own super name had stuck. Key. Nice. Completely untraceable to Sean “Jack” McLoughlin.

Compulsory ski masks and coveralls slowly changed into proper costumes as the smallest of their number, the fearsome little Ripper, developed her crafty powers in fusion with the more technologically adept supers. Though there was a whole team dedicated to their uniforms, Ripper still ruled over them with iron scissors, working her magic to make them as safe and comfortable as possible. Jack scrawled a note asking her if his suit could be triggered to pump his lungs for him when he ran and slipped it into his armor. He liked his red uniform. It made him feel like his idol, Spiderman, even if he had ended up with Quicksilver’s powers. He had gone straight up a building today. That was almost something Spiderman would have done, only Spiderman would have used webs and wouldn't have been in Tokyo.

Because that was the thing, really. The supers were hidden from normal humans, but the aliens and monsters didn't follow human rules. Attacks on Earth kept coming, and the original superheroes were not enough to hold off the onslaught. The super children were trained, taught to use their powers and hide their faces, and when they turned eighteen, were given permission to help defend the world if they wanted to.

On one condition.

No super's identity could ever be revealed. _Nothing_ that could identify a super was allowed. No super could hint at where they really lived or even what pets they had. Accents were encouraged, the wilder, the better. Many supers adopted a Southern U.S. drawl, as it seemed to be the easiest. Jack was fairly sure there weren't that many southerners in the super squads. He himself had swapped his Irish accent for an unfortunately poor New York one that ended up being "generic European-American" more often than not. Supers who couldn't hide their voices were fitted with voice modulators in their masks or helmets.

Masks or helmets were compulsory. Gloves and full-body lycra, at the very least, were also required. No fingerprints were left behind. No glimpse of skin. No accurate body build. Jack's suit couldn't be bulked up much due to his need for aerodynamics, but his boots were enhanced with lifts and thick soles to give him an extra couple inches of height. He suspected Warfstache was just as scrawny as he was, only Warf had the benefit of incredibly thick and bulky body armor. Sight wore little more than a green morphsuit, but even that must have had some padding beneath it to change her natural shape. _Nothing_ could reveal their identity. As far as the world knew, the supers had been raised by CC and were firmly under their control, mindless drones let out to defend the planet and then corralled back in when the job was done. If they ever were thought to have escaped, to be able to harm normal civilians (or worse, start vigilante work and take the laws into their own hands), the world would riot. If a super were ever to be outed, the CC would hunt them down and execute them. It was the only way to keep them all safe. The only way.

And so that was why Warf already knew his flirtations with Jack wouldn't lead anywhere. They weren't allowed to reveal their identities even to each other. Once a secret was shared, it ceased being secret. Several supers _had_ hooked up, when Jack was younger. Before he was eighteen. They had disappeared. Jack got the message loud and clear. Sex with someone who knew his secret wasn't worth risking his life. Not even with Warf. _Especially_ not with Warf, who frequently gave Jack a run for his money as loudest, least-censored team member. If they ever fucked, Warf would probably announce it to the entire battlefield. Even if Keystache _was_ a ship among the super-watchers online, Jack wouldn't risk it.

Besides. He had Mark. Sort of. Five thousand miles away. Jack sighed. He could only use the alien tech to hop between home and CC, and then from CC to missions. He wasn't allowed to use it to pay his sort-of-maybe-okay-they-should-probably-talk-about-it-one-of-these-days boyfriend a booty call. Mark was a doofus, not an idiot. He'd know Jack hadn't hopped on a plane and taken a ten second flight.

Jack tucked his uniform away, pulling his faithful ski mask over his face. He tugged rubber gloves on and stepped into the coveralls that hid his wardrobe choices from any CC officials. It was time to head home. He could get a few hours of sleep, and then be up in time to join Mark and Bob and Wade in a collaboration tomorrow. Warf had probably left already, if he hadn’t taken too long in his debriefing. Jack would see him again the next time they were called to the same place.


	3. Collaboration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a squad in both his lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been leaving kudos or comments! I really appreciate them all!

Jack had enough time for a few hours of sleep _if he had only slept for a few hours_! He ran into his recording room, slapping his hand on the mouse to accept the Skype call and kicking his foot into the leg of his desk at the same time. Swearing and hopping on one foot, he rubbed his stubbed toes with one hand and fumbled his headphones on with his other. "Sorry, sorry, I'm here, ow, fuck, here, I'm sorry, I overslept! I'm here!"

There was a moment of silence before Bob lost it, howling into his mic. Wade was laughing as well, slapping at the arm of his chair. "Geez, Jack, I thought you ran on plutonium or something!"

"Ow, yeah, but sometimes I gotta replenish my supply!" Jack gave his foot one more rub before flailing around for his chair.

"You okay?"

"Just kicked my desk." Jack sighed. It was not a good day, and he'd only just woken up. "I'm fine, sitting down now. Where's Mark?"

"Well," Bob said, breathing heavily as he tried not to keep laughing, "after you didn't pick up on our third try, Mark said screw it and went off to take a shower."

"...Mark's taking a shower?" Jack asked, shoving mental images out of his head. "Why? We had this planned for weeks!"

"Apparently, he was working out beforehand," Wade said. "Crushing babies' skulls or whatever. Said he was offending himself and even Chica was giving him weird looks."

"He'll be back soon," Bob assured Jack. "Not more than ten minutes or so."

"And that was about five minutes ago," Wade said. "We've been calling you non-stop."

"Sorry, geez, it's like you guys have never overslept before," Jack grumbled. He clicked open a browser, skimming through social media while he tried to get his brain into gear. Maybe he should have made a cup of coffee first. He probably still could, and no one would even notice he was gone... but no. The water would still need time to boil. Thoughts like that would get you in trouble, anyway. Just one whiff of a super using their powers outside of regulated times would send the CC into a blood frenzy. Jack certainly didn't want to end up like...

End up like Narayan Banerjee.

Jack stared at the photo accompanying an article. Another super had been caught trying to pass as a normal person. Narayan Banerjee was a dweeby looking Indian with thick black glasses on one side of the comparison, and the sleek, lightning-emblazoned, electricity-wielding superhero known as Electrode on the other.

 _I sent him along..._ The Brain had sounded almost lost last night when he was saying that. Jack had thought he was confused, but now realized what the Brain had already pieced together. Electrode had been captured by the Crusaders, CC's archnemeses.

Some people would say archnemesis was too strong a world for real life, but Jack was a YouTuber by day and a super by night (mostly nights. Sometimes evenings. Or middays). Archnemesis was perfect for what the Crusaders were.

Not all the monsters the supers fought were alien. The worst ones were humans, renegade supers themselves, supers who had evaded CC from the start or who had dug out their microchips and escaped before their identities were compromised. They were scattered throughout the world, but some of them, enough of them, had come together to form the Crusaders. Enough of them had shared the same dreams and ideals. Enough of them wanted to change the world.

The Crusaders believed that supers shouldn't police themselves so strictly. There was no need to be so paranoid about their identities. Look at the original superheroes! Hadn't they all been accepted, and yes, even loved? What made the supers so different?

 _Aliens,_ Jack had always wanted to tell them. _We're not heroes. We've been contaminated by aliens. We're NOT human, not fully. They wouldn't be safe if they knew us._

The Crusaders didn't stop at just preaching for super freedom. They actively targeted supers, trying to catch them, trying to pull their masks or helmets off, to reveal their identities to the world. Electrode must have been lagging behind too much. He must have been grabbed. The video attached to the article, the one where the Crusaders' own masked operatives yanked Electrode’s helmet off, that was classic Crusade.

 _Quick this time,_ Jack thought. _They usually take weeks before going for the face._ He closed the article quickly, feeling bile rising in the back of his throat. Poor Electrode. He hadn't asked for any of this. He'd followed the rules. It wasn't his fault. At least the CC would be able to track him down and offer him a cleaner death than the mob would, if they found him first.

_It could have been any of us._

It had happened last night, between CC and the battlefield. The Crusaders could have snatched _any_ of them last night.

Well, not Jack. Jack could outrun them. And Sight was on his back, and Cutie and Luna had gone through together... Warf? It could have been Warf. Electrode had been sent out right after Warf. Jack's heart dropped deeper into his stomach at the thought of Warf being unmasked and executed.

It hadn't been Warf. It had been Electrode, who Jack hadn't been all that close to. Some of the others had, though. They would mourn him. Brain would probably send out a message soon.

"Jack?" Bob interrupted Jack's thoughts.

"Mm?"

"You've gone awfully quiet. What's up?"

"Huh? Oh, just, uh," Jack sighed, not in the mood to lie. "Just reading this superhero article."

"About Electrode?" Wade asked. "Yeah... can you believe it? Another rogue one, pretending to be human?"

"I wonder if they'll kill him," Jack said, picking at the corner of his desk. "I mean, it's weird, killing superheroes, right?" Not that he was biased or anything.

"They're only called superheroes because they fight monsters for us," Bob said. "They're not really, not like the originals, you know? They're much more dangerous."

"Yeah," Jack said. "Dangerous."

"You must have been seeing an old article," Bob continued. "There's one from about an hour ago, saying the Central Command organization has already been mobilized to recapture the renegade and deal with the danger.."

"Hey, you know, maybe we shouldn't talk about-"

"What, killing superheroes in front of Markimoo?" A third voice interrupted Wade, cool and disinterested and all but screaming at how pissed Mark was. "Hey guys. I'm back. I see you got Jack."

"Mark, you know I don't mean," Bob tried to explain. "Daniel wasn't-"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." That one was a bit softer, a bit more tired. Jack bit his lip, wishing he could give Mark a hug.

Daniel. Daniel "Ibis" Kyre, a master of munitions. He wore a bright blue suit and taught Warf all he knew about making things go "boom." Daniel had been one of Mark's best friends, and one of Jack's as well, though Jack hadn't known him as Daniel until it was too late. The Crusaders had grabbed him from his bed, and CC had executed him, and Mark, Matt, and Ryan had all been hauled in for questioning. Had they known? Had there been hints? Had Daniel told them anything?

The end result had been one dead super and three traumatized YouTubers. Mark had even stopped his open hero worship of the supers (especially his favorite, Warfstache, with whom Mark actually managed to get a picture with while wearing a fake pink mustache of his own, inspiring his YouTube icon), disillusioned after Daniel's death.

"Let's just play a game!" Jack suggested, injecting as much cheer into his voice as he could muster, a verbal embrace for Mark and a change of topic. "C'mon, c'mon, everyone's been _begging_ for another Prop Hunt video for _months_!"

"I call props!" Mark sounded chipper again as well, clearly an act, but Jack was glad he was going along with things. "You guys are going _down_!"

"Bob's on my team!" Jack shouted back. "C'mon Bob, let's fuck 'em up!"

"Anyone doing intros?" Wade asked. "Wait, wait I still need to sync!"

Time always flew when Jack was playing games with Mark, Bob, and Wade, and before he knew it, four hours had passed. Molly was pulling Wade away for dinner and he was saying his good-byes.

“Jack, can you stay online for a few minutes?” Mark asked.

“Aww, you gonna talk about your luuurve?” Wade asked, making kissing noises into the mic.

“I thought you’d be glad I waited until after you were gone!” Mark shot back, to Jack’s relief. He was too flustered to answer back himself.

“You know, Wade, he has a point. We should be grateful. If they’re anything as bad as you were when you first started dating Molly…” Bob chuckled. “You gonna want me off too, Mark?”

“Eh, unless you want to discuss Pax plans with us,” Mark said. “But seeing as how I know you already made your reservations…”

“You don’t have a reservation yet? Eeesh. Get on that, Markimoo, or you’ll be sleeping in an alley!”

With one final laugh, Bob logged off. Wade followed shortly thereafter. After a moment, Mark’s webcam turned on, revealing the other YouTuber. His red-tipped hair was floofier than usual, unstyled after his pre-game shower and mussed in rage from a particularly devilish hiding spot from Bob. Jack itched to run his fingers through it, but Mark was too far away. Instead, he settled on checking to make sure his recording was fine before switching his own webcam over to Skype.

Mark was making faces into his own camera, obviously watching his own display. He grinned brightly when Jack’s video came through, turning his eyes up to the lens as if he were staring directly through it at Jack. Jack glanced from screen to camera himself, returning Mark’s smile. It was second nature now for him to treat the silent black lens as a person, a living audience. “You called?”

Mark chuckled, rocking back in his chair. “Yeah, so, Pax. You’re still able to make it?”

“It’s a week away, Mark!” Jack rolled his eyes. “If I were canceling, you would have heard about it by now!”

“Still want to room together?”

“It’s more “convenient.”” Jack did the air quotes with his fingers. “It “saves us money.” It “makes sense.” Also, as Bob pointed out, there are probably no other rooms left in all of Boston. Do you think we’re fooling anyone?”

Mark scoffed. “Absolutely not. None of our friends, at least. And the fans have no need to know our room arrangements.”

“Speaking of, did you tell Bob and Wade? Because I didn’t.”

“Didn’t have to,” Mark said, shaking his head. “They know us, Jack. They knew the morning after.”

“Greeeeeat.”

“Tumblr is still acknowledging Septiplier is nothing more than a fantasy. It’s cool.”

“It’s not a fantasy though… right?” Jack fidgeted with the cord of his headphones, hating himself for even asking. For even _needing_ to ask.

Mark smiled at Jack, not one of his bright Markiplier grins, but something smaller, more private, meant just for them. “I told you I don’t do one night stands. And I know you don’t either.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… weird.”

“Weird?”

Jack gestured between himself and the camera. “You and me. Septiplier. Being _real_.”

Mark shrugged helplessly. “But it is.”

“How are you so cool about all of this? I mean, we didn’t plan this…”

 _This_. This has been a late-night gaming session in Mark’s hotel room at their last shared con, too many dick jokes and too much worn down inhibitions from a day of meeting fans. One challenging pun had somehow turned into a kiss Jack barely remembered. The second kiss had been much clearer. And the third. As had been waking up in Mark’s bed with their clothes scattered on the floor and Mark’s arm heavy around his waist. Jack hadn’t known the protocol for this: with his ex-girlfriends, sex always came after many months of long-distance dating, and it had always been a _thing_ , something they’d both known was going to happen, something they had been anticipating, excited for. He had floundered, but Mark had just kissed his nose and got up to get the room’s coffee pot started, far too cheerful for being uncaffeinated.

And somehow, that had been that. They were together. Mark had followed Jack back to his room the next night, and Jack hadn’t complained. He’d been lonely ever since he broke up with Signe (the stress of hiding his super abilities from someone who lived with him grew too much), and, well, Mark always had been his one celebrity exception. Not that Mark was a _celebrity_. Not to him. Not anymore.

“You plan too much,” Mark was chiding him. “I just want to enjoy every minute I get to spend with you, no matter what we’re doing. What it means.”

“Some people would say you don’t plan enough,” Jack pointed out. “Mr. Master Procrastinator. Remember when we had to slap you for not having your videos prepped correctly?”

“Septiplier isn’t real,” Mark teased, scrunching up his face. “I’ll _never_ be your boyfriend!”

“Wa-pish!” Jack “slapped” his webcam, making his high-five sound. “How dare you!” Mark was already laughing, that breathless deep chuckle that Jack could imitate perfectly.

“Hey,” Jack said, after their laughter had quieted down and they were both just watching each other with stupid little smiles on their faces. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Mark’s forehead wrinkled with his confusion. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“I mean, after what Bob said…” Jack hated bringing it up again, but he had to check. With Electrode’s death so fresh and niggling at his mind, he just couldn’t leave the supers alone. How much did it affect Mark still, after Daniel?

“ _Oh._ ” Mark breathed out heavily through his nose, closing his eyes. “Yeah, I’m… it’s cool. I know Bob didn’t mean it to sound like that. You know how he can get, words coming out wrong and digging himself into a bigger hole if you let him try to explain.”

“I don’t believe Daniel was dangerous,” Jack said quietly.

“How would you know?” Mark asked. “You never got to meet him.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” It was too easy to lie to Mark, like how he’d lied to Signe. “He was your friend. You wouldn’t have trusted him that much if he were.”

Mark’s smile was tinged with sadness, and Jack hated that he had put it there. “Thanks, Jack. I don’t think he was really dangerous either. But… he got a better death than that Crusade group would have given him. I’m grateful for that, at least.”

“I wish I could give you a hug.” Jack pouted, leaning in closer to his camera. “Is there anything I _can_ do for you? From the other side of an ocean or two?”

“Just be you, Jack,” Mark said, looking back at him through the camera. “Just be that amazing Irish tuber who is not at all a superhero in disguise. I don’t think I could go through with that again.”

“That’s not too hard,” Jack lied, wishing his heart didn’t clench at the thought of Mark ever finding out about his secret identity.

“I know.” Mark grinned. “Can’t ask you for anything too difficult. We’re still getting you to speak properly.”

“Hey!” Jack backhanded the camera to the sound of Mark’s laughter.

“Look, I gotta go,” Mark sighed. “I’m behind on my Pax prep.”

“Look who’s wishing he planned more now,” Jack scolded. His extra videos were almost done: he always had a small backlog planned anyway, just in case he got a call to a fight. “Hit me up if you ever want to chat, okay?”

“Absolutely. See you in a week, Jack.” Mark blew Jack a kiss before ending their call.


	4. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Pax East, Mark and Jack decided to share a room for the convenience factors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to change the post date of these chapters. I have them saved as drafts, but if I don't change the date, they get back-dated and then you can't see that this has been updated. Boo. I'm going to try to be better about fixing that.
> 
> Thank you still to everyone who's been kudoing and commenting! I love getting feedback! It just makes my day!

It didn’t seem like the week would ever end. Jack shouted himself nearly hoarse and rested his voice while making dozens of thumbnails. He scoured his tags on Twitter and Tumblr, liking every non-shippy piece of fanart he could find. He couldn’t bring himself to like anything overtly Septiplier, though. Mark wasn’t outing him, so he wouldn’t out Mark.

Occasional messages through his CC private number kept nudging him out of the Jacksepticeye life. There were no attacks, but as Jack had suspected, Brain sent out a message about the loss of Electrode and many of the other supers replied-all to share their grief. Warf and Cutie both reached out privately to Jack. The Crusaders had snatched supers before, but never this close to them. Never right on their heels. This was supposed to be something that happened to other groups, not theirs.

 _It could have been you,_ Jack had texted Warf. _If Electrode had been just a little faster than you…_

 _It wasn’t,_ Warf had responded. _It wasn’t, Key. They didn’t get me. I’m safe. They didn’t get you either. You’re safe. We’re both safe._

Not for the first time, Jack wished he had someone real he could confide in, someone close by, who could actually hold him and tell him things would be okay.

The week _did_ end, though, and Jack was soon in Boston, standing in the lobby of his hotel and logging in to the guest Wi-Fi. As soon as his phone connected it pinged with messages, but only one was important. Mark Fischbach: _817_.

Jack drummed his fingers against the handle of his suitcase as he rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, his eyes glued to the red LCD numbers as they crept upward. Room 817 was near the end of the hall, not far from the ice machine. Jack kept his pace purposely slow, even though he ached to speed through the seconds and be at the door already. No, no, he could behave. He was stronger than that.

Mark flung the door open almost before Jack was done knocking, as if he’d been waiting just on the other side. He grinned. Jack grinned. They fell into a tight embrace, neither knowing who had actually started it.

“We should get you inside,” Mark said an eternity later, his words muffled by Jack’s neck. “Mm, yes, we should get you inside, because I want to get you on a bed. You smell like Ireland.”

Jack laughed a little nervously. “I smell like plane. You have no idea what Ireland smells like. You’ve never been.”

“Ireland,” Mark declared, pulling away and grabbing Jack’s bag. “C’mon in. You’ve got to see the bathroom here. The little soaps are _SO CUTE_!”

Jack let Mark give him a guided tour of the hotel room, their fingers linked together. This really hadn’t been a one-time thing (three-night stand?). It was real. They were in Boston together, sharing a room together, holding hands. Together.

“Thank you,” Jack solemnly said as Mark finished. “Now I will never get lost in our room.” Not that there was much to get lost in anyway. Their room was bog-standard: two queen beds (just in case any friends came over), a TV, a mini fridge and microwave hidden behind a door in their dresser, and a roomy bathroom with a fan that rattled and yes, tiny little bottles of soap that Jack had to admit _were_ adorable and he’d probably have to steal from Mark to give his sisters as souvenirs.

“I know.” Mark nodded deeply. “It is very important to be acquainted with the facilities. I’ve also studied the exit route map in the event of emergencies. I know the closest fire escape and what to do to call for pizza.”

Jack flopped down on the closest bed and kicked off his shoes. Almost immediately, Mark was beside him, pressing against his side with a dog-like sigh. “You spend too much time with only Chica for company,” Jack said, combing his fingers through Mark’s hair as he’d itched to so many times in the past few months.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Mark pushed his head into the touch, his eyes falling closed. “Mm, yeah, scratch me behind the ears, rub my belly, I’ll be a good boy…”

Jack watched the minute signs of stress fade away from Mark’s face as he massaged the other man’s scalp, relishing Mark’s heat against his side and steady heartbeat echoing his own. He curled his fingers down, curving behind one of Mark’s ears, and leaned in to daringly peck his lips against Mark’s.

Mark cracked his eyes open, his glasses somewhat lopsided now. He looked at Jack, then leaned in and kissed him. Jack melted as Mark’s hands came up to cup his face, holding him steady as they grew reacquainted with each other’s mouths.

“Hi,” Mark breathed when they pulled apart. “I’ve missed you. Good flight?”

“Wasn’t bad. No babies. I’ve missed you too. Hi. How was yours?”

“Babies. Three of them. I almost had to punch one.”

“Aww, poor Markimoo. At least you’re here now.”

“At least _you’re_ here now.”


	5. Work/Life Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack snatches a moment at Pax East to chat with Warfstache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all so awesome! Thank you, as always, for your comments and kudos. They mean a lot to me!

_ São Paulo. Aquatic monster. Accept/Decline? _

Jack tapped the red Decline button, dismissing the invitation from CC before anyone else could see it. There was a signing right after their lunch break! He didn’t have time to go running halfway around the world to fight off a South American Godzilla, even at his speed.

_ Sorry, Brazil. _ Jack did feel guilty every time he declined a call for super assistance. There was a monster in the world, attacking innocent people, destroying their property. Jack had super powers. He had a responsibility to protect those who couldn’t. It was why he had signed up with CC in the first place, why so many of them had.  _ With great power comes great responsibility. _

And yet, their service was genuinely not compulsory. No one was forcing them to defend the world, or to defend the world every single time. The supers who signed up were all summoned whenever there was a monster, and whoever was available would answer the call. Squads tended to form around who was awake and available at the time. Warf and Jack almost always went to fights together: they seemed to have the same sleep schedule. The Brain and Sight were either both in a fight with Jack or neither in a fight with him. There was never one without the other. There were a handful of other regulars, and then even more who frequently-but-not-always showed up, like Cutie or Luna. 

Jack sometimes wondered what his other supers did for a living. He was extremely lucky: YouTube gave him incredibly flexible hours. As long as he always had some videos prepped (and he always did), he could drop just about anything at a moment’s notice and run off to defend the world. The only times he passed were when he was at a live event, like this one, collaborating, or sleeping. Jack had even left food behind to fight. Not happily, and he made sure the entire team and the monsters they fought were aware that his chocolate doughnut was going to be stale by the time he got back, but he had done it before.

(The doughnut was still good, even if it was a little dry. Coffee masked that flaw.)

Ultimately, Jack only missed about ten or so calls a year. Many supers, Brain had once told him, only  _ answered  _ that many. Jack didn’t get it. There was such a  _ rush  _ to fighting off monsters and aliens, protecting people, seeing the super-watchers who knew their names and costumes and stats…

Huh. Maybe they were the same reasons he liked being a YouTuber so much. Jack thrived off the performance, the confirmation he was making a difference to real people, that he was able to make so many happy by just being himself.

_ Can’t make this one. Mother’s gardening needs take precedence over monster attacks. _ Warf’s message popped up on Jack’s phone screen, and he glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Mark was bent over his plate, distractedly eating a sandwich while scrolling through some texts on his phone. Bob was reading Reddit, and Wade was watching a Game Grumps video. No one had noticed. Jack turned back to his phone, swiping his thumb across the letters to text a reply.

_ Yeah, I’ve got work I can’t avoid.  _ Not a lie, and still generic enough to not be breaking any rules. Tsk tsk, Warf. You shouldn’t be telling people you have a mother with a garden who likes you enough to ask for your help.

_ Oooh, how fun. Wish we could trade. You’d have this done in an instant. _

_ Somehow I think I’d get the worse end of that deal. You’d blow this place to bits. _

_ Hey! Not EVERYTHING I do explodes! _

_ Just most of it? _

_ You wouldn’t. Or maybe you would. In a good way. ;) ;8 _

_ ;8? _

_ ;* ;8* looks like my stache! _

_ dork _

_ I’m adding that to everything. :8) Ack, mummy calls. Coming mummy! _

Snickering to himself, Jack pocketed his phone. Mark glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow, but Jack just shook his head. “Email from my sister,” he said.

Another lie. It flowed smoothly off his tongue, and Jack cringed again internally. This was why things with Signe hadn’t worked out. He hadn’t been able to stop lying to her, and it hadn’t been fair. He’d been with Mark all of four days (in physical proximity), and he was already lying about the simplest things, like how some faceless guy would flirt with him.

“I’m still hungry,” Jack announced, pushing himself to his feet and pushing those niggling thoughts out of his mind. “Anyone else want to raid the dessert table with me?”


	6. All Good Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...must come to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to Thefallenreborn, who kept me entertained with comments and who might not have survived to read this chapter. Suspense can be a killer.

They weren’t dating. They were dating? They weren’t. They kind of were. Six months and two more cons later, and Jack still had no idea. They were best friends that made out and also usually fucked whenever they were close enough. They called each other at random hours to talk about nothing or collaborated on videos together. Mark had asked him about moving to LA several months ago, but Jack had panicked and said he wasn’t sure, he needed to think about it. Mark hadn’t suggested it again. Jack wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

On the one hand, Jack _ached_ to be near Mark. Skype and sexting were no substitutes for feeling the man he loved beside him. Even their professional mics and headphones couldn’t capture the little nuances of Mark’s laugh, his voice, and Jack’s monitor had nothing on the full resolution of Mark’s actual face, whether it be calm or sleeping or twisted in pleasure. Jack wanted to say yes. He wanted to move to LA. Even if Mark hadn’t been there, LA would open up so many more job opportunities for his YouTube career.

But on the other hand, LA would turn a long-distance relationship into an actual one. A real one. With a real housemate and real attention to where he actually was. Jack wouldn’t be able to use the excuse of “I overslept” if he was not sleeping in their shared bed. He wouldn’t be able to hide the occasional injury, the odd bruises that formed a day or two after a fight. And god, what if Mark actually saw his phone? Jack wasn’t sure what would be worse, Mark intercepting a message from CC or Mark reading some of the very raunchy texts Warfstache kept sending him.

Long-distance relationships were the only sorts of relationships Jack could maintain. Such was the lonely life of a super. Jack pulled out his phone, scrolling through past conversations. Mark didn’t show up. They still hadn’t actually exchanged phone numbers. Did that mean they weren’t dating? There wasn’t much point to doing it: Jack’s phone couldn't make calls in the States, and why text when they were already Skype friends?

Most of Jack’s texts were to his family. On his private CC number, Warf’s conversations dominated. Brain and CC kept their communications largely to work matters, but Warf would ramble about his mother’s garden or the way the rain felt after a long stretch of sun. Jack tried not to respond. He really did. But Warf was so charming, in his overpowering, oafish way, and Jack was growing an unhealthy attachment to the :8D emoticon. Whenever he saw it, his day was lifted just a little bit, no matter what was happening.

 _Hey._ Mark’s name popped up on a Skype notification. _Got some time? Can I call?_

Jack smiled, tapping the call button on his iPad. Mark’s name also lifted his day whenever he saw it.

Mark answered on the second ring. He didn’t look good. He was slouched in his chair, his hand shoved through his hair, an uncharacteristic frown on his face. Jack sat up on his couch, adjusting the iPad for a better angle. “Hey, Mark. What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I…” Mark scrubbed his hand over his face, then looked up at the camera. “Jack, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m fucking everything up.”

“Hey, calm down, no you’re not.” Mark got like this sometimes. He wasn’t _depressed_ , Jack knew, but he had a lot of the same self-doubts that Jack had. The price of explosive channel growth and overnight success was the belief that you hadn’t really earned it. Jack knew that Mark was a fantastic YouTuber and a good person in every sense of the word, but sometimes Mark himself didn’t know that. “What could you possibly be fucking up?”

“You.”

Mark held the camera’s gaze for a minute before squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his hand against them again.

“If this is some kind of innuendo, you’re doing it wrong,” Jack began slowly, but Mark was shaking his head.

“Us, then. I’m fucking us up.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific, bro,” Jack said. “Nothing seems fucked up from my vantage point.”

“I’m cheating on you.”

Mark flinched as he said the words, turning his face away from the camera. Jack sat perfectly still, staring at Mark’s profile on his screen.

_We’re not dating._

“How,” Jack began, then coughed to clear his throat and tried again. “How are you cheating on me? Like, just fucking around? Cause, I mean, I get it. It’s been months. We’ve got needs…” _Yeah, and try not to sound so desperate._ “As long as it’s not emotional attachments, I guess…”

“It’s emotional.” Mark folded his arms on his desk, hiding his head in them and mumbling something more.

Jack tapped on the iPad screen. “Hey, buddy, can’t hear ya when you hide from me.”

“It’s emotional,” Mark repeated, reluctantly pushing up and looking at the camera again. His eyes were reddened. Had he been crying? Jack didn’t know if he should feel bad for Mark or be upset. He was being _cheated_ on! He had every right to be upset!

But he was also leading Warfstache on himself. How hypocritical was it to scold Mark?

“There’s this guy… I don’t even have a fucking _chance_ with him, Jack, but I can’t stop…”

“Fantasies aren’t cheating,” Jack said. “If they were, there wouldn’t be a faithful person alive on this planet! Fantasies are fine.”

“I flirt with him,” Mark said. “Not the harmless stuff we do with the fans, or with Felix or Ken. I’ve been making it very clear that all he’d have to do is crook a finger and he’d have me. And the thing is… the thing is, if I had a chance with him, even just one day, I’d… I’d pick…”

 _I’d pick him over you._ Jack heard the words Mark couldn’t bring himself to say. For once he was speechless, absolutely speechless. Sure, Jack would sometimes flirt back with Warf, but he’d _never_ pick the super over the YouTuber. It would be nice to have a partner he didn’t have to lie to, a partner who’d understand his secret life, who could join him, who could hold him after the particularly messy ones, but a life with Warfstache wasn’t worth risking his own life. Mark though, Jack _loved._  He loved him from afar, loved him when they were together. He loved late-night rambling with Mark, and goofy games, and their in-jokes that Warf would never in a million years understand. He loved the way the tips of Mark’s hair curled down when it grew too long, and how his eyes crinkled up when he laughed. Jack loved how Mark’s lips felt against his own, against his skin, and how perfectly they fit together each and every time they met. He closed his eyes, unable to keep looking at Mark’s misery in the face of his own advancing tide.

“Jack, I’m sorry,” Mark whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I love you, and you are amazing, but I… I’m not good enough for you, Jack. I tried, I really wanted to be…”

“If you don’t have a chance with him, why are you telling me this?” Jack asked, his voice creaking slightly. Dammit, no! He wasn’t going to cry. “Why can’t we just…”

“Because you don’t deserve to be second-best,” Mark said. “You deserve someone who loves you entirely. Who always puts you first.”

“I put YouTube before you,” Jack mumbled, wiping his arm across his eyes. He’d never been dumped before. He’d always done the dumping. It was a thousand times worse on this end.

“She doesn’t count,” Mark said, shaking his head. “She’s a harsh mistress to us both.”

“Mark…”

“Oh Jack, don’t, please don’t…” Mark flinched again, shoving his fingers into his hair. “No, I don’t have any right to ask you what to do. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I didn’t… I wish I were the man you deserved.”

“Why do you get to decide what I deserve?” Jack asked. “Why can’t I decide if I deserve you?”

“Because you undervalue yourself,” Mark said. “You always have. It’s part of your charm, how humble and modest you are, but…” He shook his head. “Jack, I get to decide this, because I know how deep this rabbit hole goes for me. I’m the one who gets to live inside my head. I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep lying to you. Not to you.”

 _I’m lying to you too._ Jack took a shuddery breath, pulling himself back under control. _I’ve been flirting with Warfstache. That’s almost the same._ Except Jack had never wished Warfstache replaced Mark in his life. “No, I… I get it.”

 _How long?_ Jack wanted to ask. _Do I know him? Is he funnier than me? Better looking? Did he dye his hair to match yours for charity?_

“It sucks, but…I get it.” It was for the best, anyway. A super couldn’t really have a real partner. Sooner or later, the truth would come out, and either memories would be modified or someone would be executed. “I...it’s okay, Mark. I get it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” Mark accused, looking through the camera again. “Don’t. I don’t deserve to feel better right now. I half wish I were there just so you could kick me in the balls.”

“Masochist,” Jack said with a hint of a smile. Mark managed to return it just as weakly. “Can we still be friends, though?”

“Yeah,” Mark said. “I hope so. I mean, we have to be to keep up appearances online, at least, but I really… I’m being really selfish, but I don’t want you out of my life. You’re still one of my best friends. You always will be.”

“Good,” Jack said. “Good, I better be. Because if we do split fully, I’m totally taking Bob and leaving you with Wade.”

“Who’ll get Matt and Ryan?” Mark asked.

“Me,” Jack decided. “You can keep Chica.”

“Gee, thanks. I get to keep my dog and _Wade_.”

“Hey, you’re the one dumping me,” Jack pointed a finger accusingly at Mark, though his smile was threatening to peek out. “I get first pick! Just be grateful I’m leaving you with Chica at all!”

“Heh, you’re right.” Mark floofed his hair and glanced at the camera. “Are we… are you going to hate me forever?”

“Nah, not forever.” Jack slumped back against his couch. “Maybe for a week.”

“I can live with that.”

“Go on,” Jack said, waving a hand at Mark. “Get away with ye. Let me get my week started, so it’ll be over with sooner.”

After Mark hung up, Jack sat on the couch staring at his iPad until it turned off from inactivity. He reached for his phone instead and scrolled to an anonymous number tagged by a pink mustache.

_My day sucks. Make me smile._

After a couple minutes, Warfstache responded. _What do you call an alligator in a vest? :8/_

_Um… crocovest?_

_Investigator! HYUKHYUKHYUK :8D_

Jack couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.


	7. Fire and Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a horrible mission, Jack seeks comfort from the only man who can give it to him.
> 
> **this is the M-rated chapter**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who has commented and kudoed this fic. It really means a lot to me! I hope you find this chapter somewhat more enjoyable than the tragedy that was the last one!

Not all missions involved fighting monsters or aliens or the Crusaders. Sometimes they were rescue missions, helping out after natural disasters or devastating attacks. Jack had a flight in four hours, but when The Brain texted him _Key we need your speed for this one,_ he couldn’t say no. Jack had pulled his mask on, grabbed his transporter, and was soon in Australia, racing through a hospital burning from a forest fire to rescue as many injured as he could.

The call had come too late. Alien tech could only go so fast. By the time Jack hit the ground, the building was already in flames. The first two floors were lost, and the upper floors were groaning threateningly. Jack pushed his legs faster than he ever thought possible, pulling the sick and injured from their beds and carrying them through the flames. Other supers were outside, some fighting the fires, others tending to the rescued.

When Jack couldn’t find any more on the upper floors, he raced through the inferno down below, checking each burning body for any signs of life. Oggwa, a water super, ended up dragging him from the building when Jack finally collapsed, puking into his helmet. The heat, the stench, the over-exertion...it was all too much.

Warfstache intercepted them outside, lifting Jack out of Oggwa’s arms and carrying him to the edge of their makeshift camp. Jack couldn’t even bring himself to protest the treatment. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Warf’s shoulders and turned his face against the other super’s shoulder, trying not to tilt his head too much.

“I’d get your helmet off, but…” Warf set Jack down against a light post. “Hang on. Wait here.” He touched his pink fingers to Jack’s helmet before hurrying off toward where the doctors and healing supers were mingling.

Jack closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth. His helmet was disgusting inside, but he couldn’t pull it off or open it, not out here. He had to get back to CC first, but he wasn’t even sure he could trust his legs right now. They felt about as solid as jelly.

The world went dim around him, and then hands were at the sides of his helmet, snapping the clasps loose. Jack’s eyes flew open, his hands jerking up to grab the attacker’s arms.

“Shh,” Warf soothed him. There was an orange blanket over his head, and Warf was reaching beneath it. “You’re covered, it’s okay. You need some air. I’ll get your helmet cleaned out. No one will see.”

“CC,” Jack began, but he felt his vomit slide against his cheek and nearly barfed again. CC could screw themselves for once. Jack let his hands drop to his sides, shivering as Warf pulled his helmet open and off.

Jack had never been outside in his Key suit without the helmet. _Never_. He felt naked and exposed, even with the orange blanket fully draped around his head. What if Warf whipped it away? He’d see immediately who Jack was. What if a CC official noticed? What if…?

Warf pulled his helmet away and returned again with a damp rag which he offered Jack. He was behaving, only sticking his arms under the blanket, not risking stealing even a glimpse of Jack. Warf was trustworthy. He’d protect him. Jack knew that. He was just being paranoid.

After wiping his face down, Jack croaked a thanks. Warf’s pink-gloved hands slipped back under the blanket, taking the cloth from Jack and offering him a bottle of water instead. As Jack unscrewed the bottle, one of Warf’s hands snuck up and touched the side of his face, his fingertips gliding across Jack’s beard.

“Sorry,” Warf murmured, though he didn’t pull his hand away. “Can’t resist.”

“Warf…” Jack fought not to lean into Warf’s soft touch. He shouldn’t, _couldn’t_ encourage him. Not now. Not when he was so vulnerable.

The blanket pressed against his face, Warf’s mustache bumping his cheek with a layer of thick cotton between them, but the touch of a kiss was still unmistakable against his lips. “You were a hero today, Key. No one else could have done what you did.”

“Warf, I…”

“Have a partner, I know.” Warf drew back, and Jack felt the absence of his touch keenly. “I’m sorry. I’ll get your helmet cleaned out. Rehydrate.”

Warf kept his hands to himself when he returned, slipping Jack’s helmet beneath the blanket and letting Jack be the one to pull it off once he was suitably covered. There was nothing left for them to do, so Warf offered Jack a hand up and helped him back to the teleport to CC.

The CC officials had not been happy that Jack had removed his helmet in public, but as he had remained completely anonymous, they let him off with a warning to hold off getting sick next time. Jack nodded along with whatever they said, just wanting to get home. Not that he could stay home for very long. He had to race to the airport to catch his flight to Seattle.

Nearly ten hours of silent thought while trapped on a plane did nothing for Jack’s mental state. He staggered into his hotel room late at night and flopped face-first onto his bed, not even caring to kick of his shoes. He couldn’t get the events of the day out of his head: the fire, the burning bodies, the _smell_ , even through his helmet’s filters. And _Warfstache_. Warfstache who had touched him, kissed him, tried to make everything all right.

Sleep was not coming. Jack groaned, shoving himself up to grab his phone. A quick scroll through his Skype list showed him that Mark was online.

_Hey. What hotel are you at?_

It took a minute for Mark to reply. _Baymont. You?_

_Same. What room?_

_923\. You?_

_Doesn’t matter._

Jack shoved his phone into his pocket, slung his carry-on over his shoulder, and headed out the door. He took the stairs instead of the elevator: Mark was three floors above him. Climbing them didn’t help his sanity either. He knocked on the door of 923, waiting for Mark to answer it.

Mark opened the door wearing nothing more than his mustached M sleep pants. His eyes widened behind his glasses as he took in Jack’s obvious distress. “You look like shit…”

“Hello to you too.” Jack shifted from one foot to the other. “Mark… I know we’re not… It’s been months but… I just needed…”

“Come in,” Mark said quietly, taking Jack by the arm. He soon had Jack divested of shoes and bag, sitting back against the pillows of the king-sized bed. “What’s wrong, Jack?”

“I saw something…” Jack curled his legs up, tucking his face against his knees. He felt the bed dip as Mark sat near him, close but not touching. It had been three months since Mark dumped him via Skype, three months since they’d had anything resembling a deep conversation, and they were both still trying to figure out how to stay friends. “Before my flight, I… Jesus, Mark.”

He couldn’t tell the truth. He couldn’t tell anything even remotely close to the truth. A fire? Burning bodies? That sort of thing didn’t happen in Ireland. Jack swallowed down the words he so desperately wanted to say, spinning a lie like he always did to Mark. “There was an accident, a car accident. I wasn’t _in_ it, but I saw it. It… It wasn’t like the movies, Mark. They don’t… It was… They were dead. They were dead, and I couldn’t _do_ anything, it wasn’t like it was my fault, but I still couldn’t do anything, and they were still dead, and I just...” He shuddered violently, curling in tighter against his legs.

“Fuck,” Mark breathed, long and low, but then he shifted closer to Jack, one bare arm settling around Jack’s shoulders and tugging him close. Jack turned into Mark’s chest, clinging to him, hiding against his muscles like Mark could protect him from the world. “Jack… Shit. I’m sorry you had to experience that. You sure you’re okay?”

Jack nodded, but it turned into a shrug halfway out. “I just… I just needed to feel someone, Mark. Just know I wasn’t… Can I stay here tonight? I just…just need to not be alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, rubbing Jack’s back slowly, one hand reaching up to slide through his hair. “Yes, of course you can. Of course. Anything you need, just let me know.”

Jack lifted his head to look Mark in the eye, blue meeting brown, so warm and concerned. _I need you to love me_. He didn’t ask permission, just leaned up and pressed his lips against Mark’s.

Mark stilled, his fingers curling against Jack’s back. “Jack…”

“Tonight,” Jack whispered. “I need tonight. Please, Mark. Give me tonight.”

Mark was silent, sizing Jack up. _This doesn’t change anything,_ said the lines of his face, but he leaned down anyway, kissing Jack slowly, taking his time to coax Jack open the way he always used to.

Jack had nothing to hold on to but Mark’s broad shoulders. He clung to the bare skin as Mark turned them, licking into his mouth, pressing him into the pillows. Mark was moving so slowly, so carefully, caressing Jack’s thin body through his clothes before easing the zipper of his hoodie down.

Closing his eyes, Jack tried to push thoughts of burning hospitals out of his mind. His legs twitched as if he could run, and Mark smoothed a hand down to his hip, rubbing his thumb against his jeans. “Mark,” Jack whispered as the other man drew away from his lips, his tongue trailing beneath Jack’s eye, catching a tear he hadn’t realized was there. “Mark, I need…”

“Shh,” Mark whispered against the curve of his jaw, nosing at his beard. “I know. I’ve got you.”

They’d been apart for three months, but Mark could still undress Jack without looking, his lips smoothing kisses over every new inch of exposed skin. Jack imagined Mark kissing away the smoke and ash, cleansing him better than the CC showers ever could. First Jack’s hoodie hit the floor, and Mark alternated kisses up his inner arms. His t-shirt followed soon after, with Mark dipping down to run his tongue over Jack’s belly, tracing the lines of his muscles sculpted by speed.

Jack arched into the warm caress, dragging his nails down Mark’s back and feeling the other man shiver. He hooked his hands into the pajama bottoms, not at all surprised to find bare flesh beneath. Mark always preferred sleeping naked. The sleep pants were only for as long as he might need to wander out of his room. Jack stretched the elastic waist out, pushing them down Mark’s hips before reaching back to grab a double handful of Mark’s amazing ass.

Mark mouthed one of Jack’s nipples, twisting his tongue around it almost lazily as he kicked his pants off fully. He was working his way upwards now, reaching Jack’s mouth again just as he pushed Jack’s jeans down.

“I don’t have anything,” Mark murmured against Jack’s lips. “Do you _need_ to be fucked?”

Jack shook his head, bumping their noses together. “Just...touch. Need you near.”

“I can do that.” Mark kissed him one more time, long and slow and deep, before he broke away and scooted back between Jack’s legs, tugging Jack’s underwear down as he went.

Jack reached behind him to hold on to the pillow, licking his lips as he watched Mark settle between his legs, tracing fingertips up his shins. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Mark shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to Jack’s inner thigh, but he didn't voice his usual protest. He really was giving Jack the night.

 _Tell me you love me,_ Jack wanted to beg. _Tell me the other guy left your life. Tell me I’m yours, and you’re mine._ Mark hadn’t wanted to lie to Jack, though. That was the whole reason they broke up in the first place. Jack couldn’t ask Mark to lie to him now, even as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

Mark didn’t notice this time. He had curled his fingers around the base of Jack’s cock, already embarrassingly hard despite the slow pace. As Jack watched, Mark leaned down, swiping his tongue up the length of Jack’s dick before closing his lips around the tip, sucking gently. Jack keened softly, digging his fingers into the puffy hotel pillow.

The theme of the night so far had been warm and loving, but Mark had never mastered the art of the slow blow. He fluttered his tongue against Jack’s head but was soon pressing down, practically inhaling Jack’s cock. Mark sucked dick like he was starving for it, wet and sloppy and fast, giving soft little grunts of his own with every bob of his head. Jack’s cock nudged at the back of Mark’s throat and saliva rolled down his shaft, pooling against Mark’s fingers where they pumped up from the base.

Jack spread his legs apart further, not resisting the thrust of his hips. Mark liked it when he moved and shouted, liked making Jack’s composure crumble around him like shattered pieces of an unneeded shield. Jack kept his hands above his head, clutching the pillow to keep from yanking at Mark’s hair. That was one thing Mark _didn’t_ like. Fingers in his hair were wonderful, but tugs reminded him of the time he’d over-bleached. Mark might have been giving tonight to Jack, but that didn’t mean Jack wouldn’t be considerate of his lover.

Mark sucked harder on Jack’s dick, his free hand curling around Jack’s balls, tickling against the sensitive skin. Jack hissed and writhed, panting freely now, yearning to hold Mark close. His legs clamped around Mark’s curved back as Mark’s hand dropped away from his balls, reaching further down to fist his own erection. Jack could only watch, forcing his eyes open, forcing himself to not miss a moment of this. He couldn’t trust himself to touch and it was killing him, bubbling out in cries and moans as Mark pulled back for a deep breath and swallowed him down again.

For one traitorous moment, Jack’s lust-addled brain whispered _And what if there was a big pink mustache there?_ before tipping him over the edge. Jack came with a nameless shout, his hips snapping up as Mark sucked him dry.

Jack sprawled on Mark’s bed in a guilt-fueled haze, watching as Mark let his cock slip out of his mouth, his hand still working between his legs. “I can…” Jack offered, flopping a hand toward him, but Mark just smiled softly and leaned down to kiss him.

“Just lie there and look beautiful,” Mark whispered into his mouth, tasting like cum and Jack. “Tonight’s for you.”

Jack closed his eyes, finally releasing the pillow to grab Mark’s shoulders again, pulling him close. Mark came with a grunt over Jack’s belly, but Jack didn’t let him pull away to clean them up.

“Stay here, Mark,” _I wish you were Warfstache,_ “please. I need you…”

Mark sighed, wrestling free enough to lean over Jack, the soft clink of his glasses hitting the nightstand explaining why he had to move. He tucked himself back against Jack’s side obligingly, letting Jack burrow against his chest again, strong fingers stroking down Jack’s spine. “Shh, sleep now, Jackaboy. I’ve got you tonight.”


	8. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They definitely aren't dating, but neither of them care for one-night stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 111 kudos, 11 bookmarks, and 1001 hits? I like those numbers so much, I'm going to post this early. Technically, it's still Sunday for me. Enjoy!
> 
> (And thank you all so much for all the kudos and comments! Those notifications always make my day!)

Jack woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and keys clicking away. He hummed his approval, shifting closer to the warm leg he was pressed again. Gentle fingers reached down to card through his hair. “Good morning, sunshine. Glad to see you’ve rejoined the land of the living.”

Mark’s deep morning voice rumbled against Jack’s ears, twinging the right heartstrings to make his chest ache. They still weren’t together. Last night… no. They still weren’t.

Jack pushed himself up slowly, stretching and yawning. He hated sleeping and wasting so much time, but he hated waking up as well. “Mornin’.”

“How are you feeling today?” Mark reached over again, catching Jack’s chin and studying his face.

“I’m… better,” Jack said, finding a smile for Mark.

“You gonna be okay for the panels?”

Jack’s smile grew as he nodded. “You know the crowds always pump me up. I’ll be fine. Just… thanks. For last night. I know it was a huge ask.”

“You needed it,” Mark said, waving his hand dismissively. “And, let’s be honest, it wasn’t exactly that much of a hardship to suck off such a hot guy.”

“But you don’t do one-night stands,” Jack pointed out, coloring more at the compliment than at the mention of what they’d gotten up to.

“You’re not a one-night stand,” Mark answered. “Even if we aren’t… you’re more than that to me, Jack. You know that, right?”

“Just not as much as some other guy you don’t even have a chance with?” Mark flinched, but Jack pressed further. “How’s that going, by the way? Still no chance?”

“Jack…” Mark was looking all kicked-puppy, an expression that had only strengthened ever since Chica started showing him how to do it properly.

Jack sighed, not having the venom in him to kick Mark like that. “No, really, it _is_ okay. I mean, I guess I’m not over it, obviously, but…”

“You don’t have to be,” Mark said. “Jack, you have every right to be pissed. I’ve been such a huge douche to you, and-”

“There’s another guy for me too.” Jack glanced up at Mark. “I mean, not the same way this other guy is for you, but… there is someone else. And there’s been someone else. For months. I just… I never wished it was him instead of you.” His gaze dropped again, and Jack tugged the blankets up his legs further. “Until last night,” he admitted.

“ _Oh_.” Mark was silent for a moment, but then his hand covered Jack’s. When Jack looked up at him, Mark was smiling, happy tinged with sad. “Jack, that’s great news. Really wonderful. I hope he can make you happy. You deserve it.”

 _If I ever kissed him properly, we’d both be killed,_ Jack didn’t say. Mark knew the dangers of being super in this world more than most normal humans, after what had happened to Daniel. Jack didn’t need to bring it up to hurt Mark again. He just gave a little smile and a nod, watching Mark’s fingers covering his.

After a minute, Mark drew his hand back. “You can have the first shower,” he offered. “I’m guessing you brought your own toothbrush?”

“Yeah, that’s what the bag was for. Thanks.” Jack nodded, taking a breath before he shoved the covers back and climbed out of bed. Neither he nor Mark were huge fans of pants (though Jack had more of an appreciation for underwear than Mark did). There was nothing _that_ weird about walking across the hotel room naked, knowing his ex was watching him.

“Damn,” Mark sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how much of an idiot I really am.”

“The biggest,” Jack said, looking over his shoulder at Mark as he gathered his scattered clothes and carry-on. “That’s no secret.”

Mark chuckled, flapping a hand at Jack. “Go get cleaned up before I do something stupid.”

“Too late for that!”

Jack’s smile dropped as soon as the bathroom door closed behind him, sagging against the solid wood with a silent sob. He’d needed last night to get to sleep, to push the thoughts of a burning hospital out of his mind, but the cold reality of the morning was that Mark was not his anymore. Would never be his again. Jack rubbed his arm across his eyes and dumped his stuff on the ground, rummaging through his pockets. All he had was Warf, really, a loving, funny friend who could never even give him a proper kiss, no matter how much either of them wanted it.

_Hey Key, you okay?_

Speaking of Warf, the pink super had texted him yesterday, a few hours after their Australia rescue. Jack had been on the plane and out of contact.

_Just checking in, but I’ve realized you’ve probably drunk yourself into a stupor. That’s what I would’ve done. Let me know how bad the hangover is when you’re feeling alive again._

That had been hours later, sometime last night. Jack sat on the lid of the toilet, swyping a reply back to the other man. _I’m not dead, don’t worry. Just crashed pretty hard._

 _Key!_ The reply was almost instantaneous. _Who was worried? Not I! 88D_

_Not as effective for that face._

_Awwww :8(_

Maybe Warf couldn’t kiss him, but he certainly could be there for Jack, so much more than Mark could. He _understood_. Jack didn’t need to explain things, didn’t need to lie. Life was _simpler_ with Warf. If only they were allowed to be together. Maybe losing Mark wouldn’t hurt so much if he had Warf. Jack bit his lip, then threw Warf a bone before he could second-guess himself.

_Got dumped._

_Oh Key._ The response was immediate. Little dots appeared as well, indicating Warf had more to say.

_ <33333 _

_(((((((((YOU)))))))))_

_I’m so sorry to hear that._

_Sorry?_ Jack replied. _I thought you’d be all over my single ass._

_Well, yeah, if you need a pick-me-up dick, I’m your man. 8=====D_

There was a pause, then: _That’s my dick. Not my nose. Didn’t want you to think it was a mustache or something._

 _So sexy,_ Jack replied, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide any laughter. He needed to actually get in the shower soon, before Mark started wondering what was wrong. _I’ll keep that in mind._

_Seriously Key, I’m sorry. I can stop flirting if you want some time._

Jack swallowed thickly as he turned on the water, feeling a wave of guilt for doing this right with Mark on the other side of the wall, after last night, but...

_Who said I wanted you to stop?_


	9. Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack can't outrun a net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone coming along for the ride! Things are about to get messy...

“Did you know I’m scared of heights?” Jack asked Warf, watching the pink super setting up a bazooka for a shot.

“What, yoooooou? Mr. Run-straight-up-buildings? Nooooooooo.”

“Yup. Fucking terrified. But not when I’m with other supers. It’s weird.”

Warf chuckled, checking the his sight. “It’s cause you knoooooooow I won’t let you faaaaaaaaaall.”

“Must be. How’s that going?”

Warf rocked back on his heels, shaking his head. “Damn thing isn’t cloooooose enough. Too much civilian risk at this distaaaaaaance.”

“Want me to lure it?” Jack got to his feet, his eyes flashing green as he took off…

...and tripped, falling flat on his visor with a squeal. A purple-robed Crusader stepped out from behind one of the industrial fans, a huge net gun balanced on his shoulder. Jack scrabbled at the ropes tangled around him, trying to get out, to find the edge. His brain was gibbering nonsense at him, screaming about how getting caught by the Crusaders meant death, guaranteed death, nothing but death.

And then the Crusader exploded, quite literally, a shower of red rain splattering down around the crater where he had been standing just moments earlier. Jack’s ears were ringing, and he blinked rapidly against the aura in his vision. Warf fell on him, sawing with a knife, his bazooka shot.

“Fuck, Key, _fuck_ , are you okay? Get out, come on, get out of there!” Warf cut a hole free, tugging the net away from Jack’s flailing limbs.

“Warfstache? Key? What the fuck is going on!? And don’t give me any of your premature ejaculation bullshit!” The Brain sputtered angrily in their ear, but Jack could barely focus on his voice.

“KEY!” Warf yanked at his arms, trying to get him to move on his own. God, yes, he had to move… “Brain, we’ve got Crusaders! One netted Key, but I got him down. Had to use my main shot.”

“That was for the goddamn giant rampaging ant!” Brain screamed.

“ _The Crusader had Key!_ ” Warf screamed back, finally dragging Jack loose. He fell back, panting, his arms locked around Jack’s back. “You okay? Key? Talk to me, Key!”

“Okay…” Jack whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. He was shaking violently, vibrating against Warf’s chest. “Okay, I’m okay… can’t hear very well…”

“I’m sorry I shot so close.” Warf’s fingers dug into Jack’s sides, holding him tightly. “I’m sorry. It was in my hand. I just acted...”

Jack bumped his helmet against Warf’s cheek, unable to silence the super with a kiss. Brain was still shouting in their ears and a giant bug was rampaging through New York City, but right now, none of that mattered. Jack had nearly gotten captured. Warf had saved him.

An eagle landed on the roof beside them, smoothing transitioning back into Cutie. “Key, Brain says you’re benched. I’m supposed to get you to Luna. Stache, we’ve got another payload coming for you.”

Jack tried to protest, but Warf pressed his fingers against Jack’s helmet over his mouth. “No, shh, if you can’t hear, you can’t obey. Get somewhere safe. Let the healers look you over. You got him, Cutes?”

“Don’t worry, Warfstache. I’ll look out for him this time.” Cutie stepped forward to grip Jack’s arm, helping him to his feet. He towered over both Jack and Warfstache, a good choice for escort duty. Jack wobbled as he stood. Maybe Brain had a point. Maybe…

The rest of the Crusaders dropped screaming on top of them, flashing in with the static pop of the same alien transporter tech that CC used. Warf bounces to his feet, slashing out with his knife. Cutie roared, going full beastmode on the nearest purple-clad renegade.

“Key!” Warf kicked a bulky man in the groin, dancing out of the way of retaliation to grab a gun from one of his spare holsters and unloading the entire clip. “Get us out of here! _Key_!”

Jack blurred, moving instinctively. He snatched Cutie out of harm’s way, but tripped again. This time, his knees were to blame, still shaky from being so close to Warf’s earlier blast. He fell out of his run, giving the Crusaders a few precious seconds to move.

A few seconds was all they needed. Each and every member Crusader was a super too, and their technology was just as advanced as CC’s. Jack’s eyes still glowed green, slowing time down even though his body was refusing to move at the same speed. He saw the the Crusaders flanking Warf, saw one get behind him as the other fell to his gun, saw the portable teleporter being lobbed at the pink shoulder.

“ _Warf!"_  Jack stretched out a hand for the other super, the thickness of the air fighting him. He screamed as the teleporter hit, Warf lurching forward before disappearing entirely. “ _WARF!_ ”

The world snapped back into time, and Cutie was screaming as well, a wordless ursine roar of rage. The Crusaders were turning toward them, though, and Jack did the only thing he could do, the only thing he knew how.

He grabbed Cutie and ran.


	10. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Jack has is hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...this is a short chapter. The next chapter is a short chapter. Rather than breaking them up over the weekend, I've decided to give all you lovely readers an extra update. Enjoy!

“We have to go back!” Jack grabbed the Brain’s thick arm, trying to get the huge man to understand. “They have Warf, they _have_ him, they’re gonna unmask him, we have to get him back!”

“Key, I _know_.” The Brain shook Jack off, all his focus on the computers in front of him. “We’re working on a trace as fast as we can.”

“Just give me a location,” Jack begged. “Get me a location, and I’ll snatch him back! I can be in and out before any of them know I’m there!”

“We need to _have_ a location before I can give it to you.”

“What about that?” Jack pointed at one of the Brain’s digital maps, where a flashing pink dot had stopped moving. “Isn’t that his microchip? What city is this? I’ll go there!”

“It’s not moving.”

“So? If that’s their headquarters-”

“Don’t be stupid, Key. _It’s_ not moving. That doesn’t mean Warfstache isn’t.”

Jack looked blankly at the Brain and he sighed, dipping his helmeted head. “They dig the microchips out. That’s the first thing they always do. Warfstache _was_ there, but the Crusaders probably just used it as a waystation to cut his cords and get him off the grid.”

“So… where is he?” Jack asked, hating how small his voice sounded even in his own ears.

“I don’t know.” The Brain glanced over at Jack and shook his head. “Key, go home.”

“What!?”

“Go home, Key. You can’t help Warf now. There’s nothing for you to fight, nowhere for you to run. Go home and rest.”

“I’m not just _leaving_ him!” Jack hissed.

“You might have to.” The Brain reached up, rubbing under the neck of his helmet. “Key, I’m going to do everything I can to find him. The moment I have a location, the very _moment_ , I promise I’ll call you back. I promise. But we’ve never gotten a location before. Warf’s not the first super I’ve lost. I’ve never gotten any of them back.”

“But Warf…”

“Go _home,_ Key. Please.” The Brain set one hand on Jack’s shoulder, his voice sad inside Jack’s helmet. “I can’t corral you and search for him simultaneously. Go home. It’s the only way you can help him now.”

The worst part about having a super with superior intelligence telling you to do nothing was how you knew he had to be right. Jack let Sight tug him away and toward a changing room. He stripped out of his uniform and grabbed the next teleporter back to his empty flat in Ireland, moving through the motions mechanically. Warf was gone. Warf was _gone,_ snatched by the Crusaders, and Jack could do _nothing_ about it. Warf had saved _him_ , at the cost of his own safety. Jack folded his hands together, pressing them to his lips, and found himself praying to a god he didn’t really believe in.

_Please. Let him go. Let him live. Please._


	11. Final Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't take any more of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, as always, to everyone leaving me such lovely kudos and comments. I really appreciate them all! I'd say I'm sorry for the cliffhanger of the past couple of days..but I'm really not. Muahaha!

The Brain never called him. Jack sat at his computer two weeks later, biting into a knuckle. The Brain never gave him a location. Mark was ignoring him, ignoring the world ever since his favorite super disappeared. The Crusaders had released a new video, which Jack was currently watching. One of their senior officers was standing in front of the camera, droning on and on about the sanctity of super life.

“Are we not your brothers and sisters, your sons and daughters? Are we not your friends, your colleagues, your companions? We risk our lives to save yours. How much more must you take from us?”

Jack barely listened. The rhetoric was the same every time, leading up to when the orator would reveal the super and name him using his own powers, the power of identity. The only thing that mattered to Jack was the flash of pink he saw every now and then when the orator moved.

No missed messages on his phone. Jack nudged the ringer volume up a couple more notches anyway, just in case. _Find him, Brain, find him, there’s still time…!_

“ _THIS_ is one of your supers!” The orator reached behind him to grab Warf, yanking him to the front of the scene. Warf was on his knees, his hands locked together behind his back, head lolling forward. His once-garish suit was mottled with darker red stains, some already rusting brown. Warf was practically impossible to kill. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be hurt. His powers reacted to pain. He was nearly instantly invulnerable, but that first fraction of a second was when he was weakest.

“ _THIS_ man has given up everything for you!” the orator roared. “His name, his life, his identity, all thrown aside, for _you_! Would you call him a monster? Would you order his death?”

 _Don’t do it, don’t do it, please don’t do it…_ Jack shook his head, tears stinging at his eyes. If they removed Warf’s mask, the CC themselves would hunt him down. There was still time, if the Brain could pull the plug on the video...

“ _WE_ honor this man! We seek to give him back some of the dignity you ripped from him! We restore to him his identity, his _name_!” The orator reached down, grabbing the back of Warf’s mask and ripping up, yanking it free.

Warf lurched forward, bending double, still trying to hide his face. He had dark hair, Jack noted, even as he gave a sob along with the super being recorded. Thick, red-tipped black hair and a glimpse of tan skin. _No...!_ Surely there were many men with that hairstyle...

The orator grabbed Warf’s head, forcing him up. He fought, struggling as best he could with his arms bound, but the Crusaders won. They always did. Not that Jack needed to see his face.

Even with his eyes shut tight and glasses missing, Markiplier was unmistakeable. “ _Mark Edward Fischbach_!” the orator screamed, and the bottom finished dropping out of Jack’s world. He couldn't deny it.

Mark.

 _Mark_.

Mark, _his_ Mark, was _Warfstache_.

And he was unmasked. He hadn’t been ignoring the world, he’d been captured, he was going to _die,_  was going to be _killed_ , because the rules were too damn strict…

 _There’s this guy,_ Mark had said. _If I had a chance with him, even just one day…_

Mark was Warf. Warf loved Key. Mark loved Key. But Key was Jack. Mark loved _Jack_ , and he was going to die not knowing it, not knowing the _truth…_

Helpless defeat was replaced by a cold rage. Jack shoved his chair back. The Brain had a lot of explaining to do.


	12. Pet-Sitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one realized Mark was gone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many awesome comments on the last chapter! Thank you so much! I hope you all survived the wait for this update. 
> 
> I am very, very sorry for Chica's suffering, but she is living in a magical AU world in this story and had absolutely no long term damage or trauma from the events of this chapter, except that Mark's battle to keep his floors free of dog poop will be all the more harder from now on.

“Even if I could get you a location now, I’m legally bound to report it to CC first.” The Brain shook his head. “Key, I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. Warfstache was my friend too.”

“ _Is_ ,” Jack snapped. “He’s not dead yet!”

“He’s as good as,” the Brain murmured. Louder, he continued: “CC knows all our weaknesses, even his. They’ll keep him from being tortured, and that’s the best we can hope for.”

“But they don’t have a location…”

“He’s _Markiplier_ ,” the Brain said. “The Crusaders don’t hide their victims from the public. Someone’s going to recognize him. The man’s got millions of fans all around the world. Someone’s going to recognize him, and all it’ll take is one sighting for CC to swoop in.”

“Not if I get to him first.”

“ _Key_. Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” Jack demanded. “Warf is my _best friend_. I’ve stood by and let CC murder enough supers. I’m not going to let them have him too.”

“They’ll stop you, Key.”

“How?” Jack asked, looking up at the Brain. He couldn’t see the other man’s eyes, only his own helmet’s reflection. “They’d have to catch me first.”

The Brain didn’t even have time to shout before Jack had taken off, racing down the halls faster than technology could respond. Sure, they had lockdown procedures in place, but the Brain wouldn’t be able to hit the button before Jack slid into one of the teleportation pods, tapping in a Los Angeles destination. His order slipped in before the Brain’s, and Jack felt CC dematerialize around him before anyone even knew he’d gone rogue.

The Brain had been right about one thing. The Crusaders _didn’t_ hide their victims. More often than not, they actually returned them to their own homes once they were interrogated and unmasked. Jack knew Mark’s exact address. He’d stayed there before. He even knew where the spare key was hidden so he didn’t have to break the door open.

Chica lifted her head and thumped her tail when Jack stepped into the house. She was lying on a chewed-up couch, looking thinner than usual, her coat not nearly as glossy, but she seemed happy enough despite the overwhelming evidence that she hadn’t been outside in over a week. Jack scratched her behind the ears, grateful for his helmet’s filters. “Hey girl. I guess a super suit doesn’t fool you, huh?”

Chica woofed and jumped off the couch, padding into the kitchen. Jack followed her, noting that her food bowl was overflowing and there were several bowls of water scattered around. Had Mark been preparing? No… why would Chica’s bowl be _full_? She usually scarfed it down the moment it touched the floor, like she was doing now, inhaling her kibble with gusto.

Jack touched Chica’s side, feeling her ribs. She _had_ been starving, and the couch and walls were testament to her suffering. Mark hadn’t prepared. But either he or someone else had gotten here recently and made sure Chica was well fed. Probably no more than an hour or two ago, based on Chica’s appetite and how much food was left.

“Mark?” Jack left Chica to her food, heading upstairs. “Mark, are you here?”

Mark’s bedroom was ransacked, dresser drawers pulled out, his closet doors hanging open. His phone was on his unmade bed. Jack tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead. He frowned, poking his head into the attached bathroom.

Mark’s toothbrush was missing.

Jack closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath. Mark _had_ been here. He must have gotten away--the Crusaders didn’t seem to torture their victims for long after the unmasking--and was now on the run. He knew how CC worked. He had to be trying to stay ahead of them.

Where would Mark go? Once unmasked, knowing his life would be forfeit if he were caught, where would Mark run to? He had come home to grab some essentials, but hadn't stayed for long. He hadn’t taken Chica, but he had left food out for her. Would she have slowed him down? Been too noticeable?

“Key, you’re an idiot.”

The comm in his helmet crackled to life, the Brain finally catching up to him.

“Fuck you too,” Jack snapped, heading back downstairs.

“They can track your microchip too, you know. All you’re going to do is lead them right to Warf. Come back before it’s too late for you. CC can understand grief.”

“Can they?” Jack lifted his arm. He knew his microchip was implanted near his right elbow. Sometimes he could feel it if he straightened his arm enough. “They barely understood getting sick in a helmet, and that had physical evidence.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Key.”

“Define stupid.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Right. Don’t leave you switched on. Bet they can track that too.” Jack reached up, turning off his helmet’s communications. With the Brain silenced, now it was time to deal with the microchip. Maybe a knife…?

The front door clicked open just as Jack dug a steak knife into his inner elbow, hissing in pain. Chica woofed happily and trotted out to greet the intruders.

Matt and Ryan stood in the hall, staring at Jack. Jack stared back. Matt looked at the knife in Jack’s arm and went “Um.” It was Ryan who actually spoke up.

“Er… hi? What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Jack’s voice was tight from the stinging pain. Trying to slice into his own arm was excruciating. Doing it left-handed was even worse.

“Are you on Mark’s side?” Ryan asked. “Or, er, Warfstache’s?”

So they had seen the video too. Jack nodded mutely, gritting his teeth. He could feel it, maybe, with the tip of the knife...

Ryan took the knife from his hand, somehow having gotten close enough. “What are you doing?” he asked again, but this time, he added, “Can I help?”

Jack squeezed his fist and shook his head. “I’m trying to find him. Warf. Mark. But they can track me.”

“You’ve got a GPS or something in your arm?” Ryan was looking awfully green as he glanced down at the mess Jack was making in Mark’s kitchen. “Matt, get some bandages. Is it in your elbow here?”

With Ryan’s help, the bloody microchip was soon lying on the counter and Matt was closing the wound with butterfly bandages and lots of antibiotic ointment.

“Aren’t you scared?” Jack asked.

“Of what?” Ryan asked. “You? You’re a friend of Mark’s. So are we. He asked us to look after Chica.”

“I’m a super,” Jack pointed out.

“Yeah, so? So is Mark. And Daniel was. And yeah, maybe we don’t know very many supers, but all the ones we have met are really incredible guys.” Ryan frowned at Jack. “Are you going to hurt us?”

“No,” Jack said. “You’re Mark’s friends.”

“Then why should we be scared?”

Jack shrugged. “Because everyone says you should be?”

“If we did what everyone said we should, we wouldn’t be making our livings on YouTube,” Matt said, sticking the last bit of tape down. The bandage would be a bitch to pull off later, but it did its job. Jack tried to roll his sleeve back down over the lump on his arm. “Somehow, I’m getting the impression you’re just as stupid as we are.”

“I need to find Mark,” Jack said. “I can keep him safe for a little bit, at least.”

“You’re the speedy-boosty one, right?” Ryan asked. “Key?”

“Yeah.” Jack flexed his arm experimentally, wincing a little at the pain. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Wasn’t as bad as it would have been if he’d fished out the chip himself.

Ryan and Matt looked at each other, and Matt nodded. Ryan took a step back, folding his arms loosely. “Mark didn’t go to our place. He just messaged us about Chica a couple hours ago..”

“Of course,” Jack said. “He wouldn’t go anywhere Central Command would think to look for him. That rules out any YouTubers around here, or Cincinnati.”

“He might try to get to Ireland,” Matt said. “He’s really close to Jacksepticeye.”

Jack shook his head. “Mark wouldn’t want to get _any_ of his friends involved. Remember how bad it was when Daniel was outed? Besides, Ireland is too far away for him.” Mark would get stopped at any border now. Crossing the ocean would be impossible. Not that Jack was even in Ireland for Mark to find.

Ryan snapped his fingers. “Daniel! I bet he’s gone to Daniel!”

“That would also be obvious,” Jack said. “Central Command knows Mark and Daniel were close, and Warf and Ibis. Daniel’d be the first place they’d look.”

“Daniel’s _grave_ , maybe,” Ryan said. “But does your Central Command know that there’s a memorial plaque to Daniel right here in LA? We put it up in one of the cemeteries. It’s a lot closer than South Carolina.”

“What?” Jack asked. He hadn’t known about that plaque, and he’d been practically dating Mark. There was a chance CC was also oblivious to it. “Tell me where!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, AUs with these boys is my thing. I started posting a fantasy royalty AU that will be updated on the days this one isn't this week, so...if you like this story, great! See you Wednesday! But if you like my writing style, you can get a new Fantismal chapter tomorrow!


	13. Among the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a quiet cemetery, Markiplier is defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably my favorite chapter. I'm not sure why. I just really like it. :)

The cemetery was quiet and peaceful, with well-manicured lawns and old trees. The sun was just starting to set by the time Jack found it, slipping through the gates just before they were locked for the night. He could go over the wall easy-peasy, but there was no point in making things more difficult for himself.

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye, too big to be a bird. Jack stopped moving, looking around at the imposing gravestones and memorials. “Warf? Is that you?”

The evening birdsong was the only answer to Jack’s soft call. Would Mark even trust him right now? Jack took a few cautious steps down the gravel path. “Warf? It’s Key. I’m here to help.”

“Did they send you to be my executioner? Or did you volunteer?”

Jack almost collapsed in relief at the sound of Mark’s voice (Mark’s, not Warf’s). Mark _was_ here. Jack wasn’t too late.

“Neither, you idiot.” Mark hadn’t shown himself, but there were plenty of huge tombstones for him to be hiding behind. “I’ve come to get you out of here. Let’s go.”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” Jack tilted his head to the side, trying to locate Mark’s voice. Left? Probably left. Jack hated how defeated Mark sounded, but at least he was still talking. “You do realize that you’ve led them straight to me?”

Jack shook his head. “Didn’t. I cut out the microchip.” He lifted his right arm, touching the bulge where Matt’s bandage was wrapped. “Warf, I’m on _your_ side, CC be damned.”

“They can track the suits, dumbass.” There was a scraping sound to Jack’s left. Mark was leaning against a stone? “If you really did cut out your chip, then they’re definitely coming after you now.”

“They couldn’t track yours,” Jack said, freezing in place again. _Could_ CC track his suit? That would make sense… but CC hadn’t descended on them yet. They still had a few minutes, probably. Plenty of time. Thank god he was the fastest member. Jack yanked his gloves off, cursing under his breath as they stuck to the dried blood that had dripped down his arm.

“The Crusaders fried it with an EMP. Didn’t do shit to the chip, so they had to cut that out with a knife. What are you doing?”

“Taking my suit off.” Jack threw the red gloves down and reached up for his helmet clasps. “What does it look like?”

“Key, _stop_.” Mark stepped out from behind an angel statue. He was dressed in a black hoodie and dark jeans, wearing a full backpack and looking utterly exhausted. At least he had his glasses back. “Stop,” Mark begged, holding out his hands. “You can still survive this. Go back to CC. You’ll be safe.”

“For how long?” Jack asked, snapping the clasps loose. “How long until the Crusaders catch me in another net? How long until I’m the one CC’s hunting?”

Mark closed the distance between them, reaching out to stop Jack’s hands before he could pull his helmet off. “If you do this, you are _definitely_ dead.”

“After I do this, we’re going down together,” Jack said. “Warf. Mark. Please.”

“Why?” Mark asked. “Why would you throw your life away?”

“Because I love you,” Jack answered. “And because you, me, _we_ deserve a chance. And we can’t do that with a helmet in the way.”

Mark looked so small standing in front of Jack, trying to see through the mirrored visor. His fingers twitched over Jack’s, but then he slowly withdrew his hands. Jack could see Mark’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, and he wanted so badly to kiss him. He did the next best thing. He pulled off his helmet.

The shock in Mark’s face was almost worth the past two weeks. Jack let his helmet hit the ground, licking his lips nervously. “Sorry, Mark. I know I said I wasn’t super, but…”

“ _...Jack_?”

“Help me out of this suit?” Jack asked, tugging at the buckles. “If they can track it…”

“ _You’re_ Key!?”

“Mark!” Jack reached out to grab Mark’s shoulders. “Mark, can they track my suit? If the answer is yes, I need to get out of it. We have to get out of here.”

“But…”

Jack leaned down, stealing a kiss from Mark’s slack lips. “We can discuss me being Key once we’re somewhere safe, okay? And, for that matter, you being Warf. Okay? But right now, we have to move.”

“Right.” Mark shook his head a little, snapping out of his trance. “ _Right_. Okay. How does your suit go on?"

With Mark’s help, Jack was soon stripped out of his suit and wearing just his normal long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. He wiggled his socked toes in the grass, frowning thoughtfully at his feet. His boots were part of his suit. They could potentially be tracked.

“Can you even run in socks?” Mark asked, his fingers curled loosely around Jack’s wrist.

“Can I? Oh _please_. I can run in _anything._ ” Jack patted his shoulders, squatting down. “C’mon, get on. I want to be out of this town before it gets too dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to everyone who has left comments and kudos! I've really appreciated them all!


	14. Be More Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has a hard time believing in himself. Good thing Jack is there to do it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all thoroughly amazing. I saw fan art made of the last chapter and it completely blew me away. Thank you all for embracing this story so whole-heartedly!

By the time Jack’s energy flagged too much to continue, the pair were hundreds of miles away. He felt like he had been running for hours. Mark had clung to Jack’s back, his face pressed against the side of his neck. It was so _weird_ , feeling someone so close as he ran, feeling the wind in his hair, the touch of Mark’s lips on his skin, the actual ground beneath his feet. Jack slumped to his knees in a golf course, the odd streetlight adding to the fading dusk light.

“Are you okay?” Mark slid off Jack’s back and came around in front of him, cupping his face in his hands. “Key, Jack, are you…”

“Just need to catch my breath,” Jack panted. “You’re fucking _heavy_ , Mark.”

“All muscle, baby.” Mark smoothed his fingers over Jack’s cheeks and leaned down to press their foreheads together. “You wait here. I’ll be right back, gonna try to find us a room somewhere.”

By the time Mark returned with a reservation in a small hotel, Jack had recovered enough to walk on his own steam. Their room was spartan but clean. Mark turned the deadbolt and secured the chain on the door while Jack sank onto the bed, curling his legs up to rub his aching feet. “Where did we end up?”

“You don’t know?” Mark dropped his bag on the floor as he climbed onto the bed behind Jack. “You were the one running.”

“It’s your country!”

“Yeah, and have you _seen_ how big it is? I don’t know everywhere.”

“You saw the front desk.”

“Touché.” Mark rubbed Jack’s shoulders, and Jack leaned back against him, purring at the touch. “We’re in a glamorous Super 8.”

“Got that much from the sign, dingus.”

“In Elko, Nevada.”

“Nevada?” Jack squinted one eye at Mark. “Isn’t that just the next state over? I felt like I’ve run through at least six states!”

“Sorry, Jackaboy. We’re only in Nevada.”

Jack sighed, closing his eyes again. “Fuck it. We’ll stay in Nevada tonight.”

“Do you need sleep?”

Jack shook his head. “Not yet. I need you to answer a question, answer it honestly.”

“I’ll answer any question you ask, if you answer any of mine.”

“Deal.” Jack twisted around to kneel in front of Mark, meeting his eyes. “That other guy-”

Mark cut him off with a laugh, closing his eyes and nodding. “Yeah. Key. You.”

“You _dumped_ me over fantasizing about me!?” Jack made himself sound more scandalized than he really was.

“What can I say, Jack?” Mark asked, spreading his arms helplessly. “You’re incredible on your own. Add superpowers to the mix, and I just lose my head.” His almost comical expression took on a serious tone as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and tugged him close. “I really didn’t think you were the same person. You hid it well. I had no idea, and I didn’t want to punish you for _not_ being Key, so…”

“So you dumped me.” Jack shook his head, touching the tips of their noses together. “Mark, you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m _really_ stupid. But can I be your idiot?”

“As if you even have to ask.” Jack brushed their lips together, finally taking the kiss he’d wanted all night. Mark held him tightly, fingers digging into his sides. Jack never wanted him to let go. “When they took you, everything was moving so slowly. I tried to grab you in time. I tried. I tried…” Each word was whispered into Mark’s mouth, a plea for forgiveness.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Mark murmured back, his fingers finding their way beneath Jack’s shirt, raking over his skin. “Either you. I hoped I could run enough to find at least one of you, to say good-bye, to say I was sorry, to say I loved you one last time.”

“Your suit was so bloody in the video. I knew they couldn’t kill you, but…”

“It hurt. God, it hurt. But they wanted names, identities, _anything_ they could use to catch more supers. I wouldn’t tell them anything. Not anything. They hated it, but I had to keep you safe.”

Jack kissed Mark properly, climbing onto his thighs and twisting their tongues together. Mark groaned into Jack’s mouth, pressing their bodies close.

“Whatever happens,” Jack said when he broke the kiss, meeting Mark’s dark eyes and pushing his unkempt hair from his face, “it happens to both of us. We face this together.”

“We don’t have a chance,” Mark began, but Jack shushed him, pressing two fingers to his lips.

“What are you talking about? We’re Markiplier and Jacksepticeye. We’re Warfstache and Key. Septiplier. Keystache. We’re unstoppable forces of the internet, you and I. If anyone can do this, it’s us.”

“Be more positive?” Mark suggested with a lopsided smile.

“Now you’re getting it.” Jack pressed his cheek to Mark’s, breathing deeply. “Okay. One day at a time. Or night. Step one: we both get a hot shower. Step two: we both climb into this bed. Preferably naked.”

“Step three, we sleep. Unless one of us should stay awake at all times?”

Jack shook his head. “I will need sleep if I’m going to run again. And you, when was the last time you slept properly?”

“How long ago did the Crusaders nab me?” Mark asked, closing his eyes. “Sleep deprivation is an effective torture for someone with my particular talents.”

“We both sleep tonight,” Jack said. “We’ll make a real plan tomorrow. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”


	15. Midnight Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack need to talk.

The heat of the shower actually brought out the ache in Jack's muscles, and he was moving stiffly by the time he collapsed into the too-soft hotel bed beside Mark, between the scratchy, over-bleached sheets and worn-out coils of the mattress. The other man turned into him immediately, hands seeking out Jack's hips and nose nuzzling beneath his ear.

Mark was shivering. Jack could feel the tiny tremors against his fingertips as he stroked his hands over Mark's back. Mark pressed tighter against him, seeking comfort, not sex. "Shh," Jack murmured, folding his arms around Mark and holding him. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay."

"This is real?" Mark's whisper was sticky against Jack's skin. "This is real. You're a super. You're _Key_. And you're here, and the Crusaders aren't, and I'm not dead, and you're not dead..."

"This is real," Jack echoed. "You're safe." Mark flinched at the s-word, and Jack squeezed him tighter. "You're _safe_ ," he repeated, "because I'll be damned if I let them get you again. I wasn't fast enough last time. I won't let it happen again."

"At least they didn't get you." Mark's lips brushed over Jack's shoulder as he spoke, nudging at his skin, not really kissing, just feeling his way with his mouth. "They had you in that net and my heart just stopped..."

"Thank you." Jack reached between them to catch Mark's chin and tilt his face up, giving him the kiss he hadn't been able to at the time with a helmet and mask in the way. "I panicked. If you hadn't been there... thank you."

"You're Key." Mark drew his hands up Jack's sides to cup his face, smoothing his thumbs over Jack's cheeks and examining him with a critical eye. "You're... heh."

"Hmm?"

Mark closed his eyes, the faintest trace of a blush dusting his tan skin. Jack leaned in to nuzzle one of those pink cheeks. "I'd just... I'd always imagined Key looked like you. I mean, not _always_ always, but after I learned about you, Jack, I'd sort of... yeah. Key looked a lot like you in my head. Except his eyes. Green eyes."

"They're only green when I'm seeing slow," Jack said, taking a breath and letting the world drop away. He didn't know what caused the green glow to his eyes when he moved faster than sound, but it was a dead giveaway that he was viewing the world at the same pace his body was moving and not at the actual speed the rest of the world was. Jack blinked again, returning to the normal speed, and Mark shuddered, staring at him in fascination.

"That was... you've always been able to do that?"

"Pretty much, ever since I can remember. God only knows how many times CC had to modify my family's memories."

Mark pressed a kiss to the corner of Jack's eye. "My power's not nearly so awesome."

"It's not so flashy," Jack corrected. "You're unkillable, Mark! And you make things go boom."

" _Almost_ unkillable," Mark said. "Theoretically. And the booming is not actually _my_ super power. It's skill learned from Ibis."

"Did you know?" Jack asked. "That Daniel and Ibis were the same?"

Mark was silent for almost too long. Jack started to wonder if he'd asked a bad question before Mark dropped his head back to his shoulder and nodded. "Not at first. We genuinely met through Cyndago. We were both YouTubing because it was easy...ish." Jack nodded, understanding the hours. "But enough coincidences stacked up. We'd both check our phones at the same time whenever CC'd message us. We'd both be unavailable at the same times, on the same days. And then... remember the avalanche in Nepal?"

"That was forever ago," Jack said, shaking his head at the memories. Warf and Ibis had both been there, attacking a fleet of aliens over the Himalayas. Something had triggered an avalanche, and Jack had raced in to rescue the supers before they'd become entombed in snow.

"Ibis got hit with that boulder. When I next Skyped Daniel, he had a huge bruise on his arm in the right place. Said he ran into a door, but..." Mark shrugged. "I cornered him next time we were together. Talk about awkward coming-outs. I didn't want to reveal I was Warfstache if he _wasn't_ Ibis, and he didn't want to admit he was Ibis if I wasn't Warfstache, so we subtly hinted circles around each other until he came out and asked if I was saying I was Warf, and then..." Mark shrugged again. "It was so _awesome_ to have someone around who understood. Just moving away from him to LA sucked. That was the real reason I moved Cyndago over here with me. I just wanted another super around."

"Tell me about it," Jack sighed. "It was so hard lying to you about everything, and we didn't even live together. There were so many times I wanted to tell you, just so you could... remember that last con? When I saw the 'car accident'?"

"Yeah?" Mark frowned a little, lifting his head. "Wait, that had been... That was right after Australia. I was really worried about Key, because he'd seemed so out of it, and then you showed up, and I couldn't help him, but I could help you... I was right to have been worried!"

"You have no idea what it was actually like in that hospital," Jack whispered, shuddering a little against Mark's chest. "It was like hell on earth. Everything was burning, hot, dead...I _still_ have nightmares sometimes. That was one of the worst. Thank you for being there too. Both as Warf immediately after, and as Mark at the hotel..."

"That's the worst part of being a super." Mark's arms slid around Jack, tugging him close. Now it was Jack's turn to nuzzle against him. "There's no support. From anyone. It's so lonely, and you have to deal with all of this psychotic crap on your own, like you have super mental strength in addition to your actual powers. When I lost Daniel... I dunno. I thought I was going to snap at any time. Like any mission would be the last. I started really going overboard with you then. Key-you. I just... I needed someone else to hold onto."

"I'm not..." Jack bit his lip, turning his head so his cheek was resting against Mark's shoulder. "I'm not just... a replacement for him, am I?"

"I loved Daniel," Mark said quietly. "But as a brother. Not as a lover. Not like you. You'll never replace Daniel, but you're not meant to. Maybe at first you were, as Key, but not as Jack. And not as Key anymore either."

Jack leaned up to kiss Mark, stopping him before he went too far and ended up ramming his foot in his mouth. "You like to pretend you're more of an ass than you really are."

Mark smiled a little. "Yeah, I blame Warf for that. I don't know if he's an exaggeration of me, or if I've picked up his personality."

"The voice, and the mustache... that damn emoticon!" Jack snickered. "I've grown weirdly attached to that emoticon."

"Yeah, so have I! It keeps trying to slip in all over. The number of times I've had to catch myself and delete it from Skypes with you..."

"That would have given it away."

"Nothing gave you away." Mark sighed. "That was the problem. When we started screwing around... when we _started_ , I was all about you. But then we were apart for months, and I saw Key more than I saw you..." He closed his eyes, smoothing his hand down Jack's side. "Whenever we'd find time to meet up, the first night, that was always crazy for you. It had been so long, we were both so impatient... but the next night, when we weren't quite so needy, when we could actually take the time to savor each other..." Mark winced, his fingers curling around Jack's hip again. "I'd start pretending you were Key. I'd stop myself, of course I would, but I'd still keep coming back, imagining that you were the super out of your suit, and I just..."

"That's why you dumped me."

"It wasn't fair to you." Mark kissed Jack's temple. "You had no idea that I was Warfstache, you didn't realize I was flirting with another man... hell, even Key was honest enough to tell me he was taken. I wouldn't even give you that respect back. I couldn't... I hated myself a little more every time I pretended you weren't you."

"You asked me to move in with you," Jack said quietly, letting his fingers slide over Mark's back. Mark sighed, rolling them over so he could lay on top of Jack, melting against his chest.

"I hoped that would stop it. That if you were near, I'd see you more than Key, so I'd stop fantasizing about a man I'd never touch and instead refocus on someone I actually could have."

"I broke up with my last girlfriend because I couldn't stop lying about the super stuff," Jack said. "I didn't want to have to lie to you too. I _wanted_ to, but... I was scared. Also..." Jack shrugged beneath Mark's comforting weight. "Big move, going from little Irish town to LA. I'm just a boy from a cabin in the woods."

"You deserve LA," Mark murmured, kissing Jack's ear. "But no, I get it. I was scared of having you move in with me too. It was hard enough keeping Matt and Ryan from figuring stuff out, especially after Daniel... I think they suspected, you know? But they didn't say anything..."

"They found me trying to find you," Jack said. "Helped me find you, actually. They came to get Chica-"

"Oh _good_ ," Mark breathed, relaxing even further. "I can't believe nobody noticed I was gone and went to check on her! She was _starving_ when I got home, and she'd eaten half the couch..."

"I saw. She was happier when I was there. Probably not long after you..."

"But Matt and Ryan came for her?" Mark lifted himself up to look at Jack. "Definitely were going to take care of her?"

"Absolutely," Jack assured Mark, silently grateful he didn't have a pet to worry about himself. A plastic bonsai tree and a shelf full of stuffed Sams wouldn't suffer without him. "They were a bit disturbed at finding me in your kitchen, but they were still calling themselves your friends."

Mark shook his head. "After everything supers have put them through, I wouldn't blame them if they hated me for lying. At least they're not blaming Chica. I asked them not to. It wasn't her fault her dad's a freak."

Jack didn't deny the words. They were true, after all. All of the supers were freaks. It's why they were merely "supers" and not "superheroes." They were mutated by alien viruses, not genuine saviors of the world. He knew that. Mark knew that. CC made sure they all knew that. Jack merely sighed, smoothing his hands down and over Mark's ass. Mark smiled down at Jack. "Matt and Ryan don't hate you. They made sure I was on your side before they helped me. They'll take care of Chica for you."

"Good." Mark settled back down on top of Jack, tucking himself into the crook of Jack's neck, the curve of his arm. Jack bent his head to rest his cheek against Mark's hair, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Jack," Mark murmured. "For being you. For being Key. For not kicking me to the curb like the stupid idiot I am."

"Masochist," Jack murmured back. "Besides...I love you. You know that."

"And the other guy in your life?"

Jack pinched Mark's hip when he felt the grin against his skin. "Ass. You just want to hear me say it was Warf."

" _Duh._ "

Jack smoothed his fingers over the tiny injury and nodded against Mark's hair. "It was Warf, okay? He was growing on me. The allure of having a lover who knew all my secrets was very powerful...but I didn't think he'd understand what it was like to _be_ me. Jacksepticeye _and_ Key. Ridiculously successful YouTuber _and_ secret super. That's part of the reason I loved you, Mark, more than him, Warf."

"Because I'm a YouTuber?"

"Yeah. You get it, the explosion in growth, the millions of people who _love_ you for doing fuck all... we just shout at video games. At least other YouTubers create things, or have real talents." Jack sighed. "I'm Jacksepticeye more than I am Key, so having Markiplier in my life was more important than having Warfstache. Also, Warfstache came with a death penalty."

Mark huffed a small laugh against Jack's throat. "Yeah, and I had Daniel, so I knew just how important having another super in my life was, someone I could confide in about the darkest parts of myself. That's why I picked Key over Jacksepticeye."

"Good thing neither of us had to actually choose, hmm?"

"You have no idea how happy this makes me." Mark nudged against Jack's shoulder and sighed. Jack could feel his eyes fluttering closed. If Mark had been sleep-deprived by the Crusaders, he had to be exhausted now. Jack certainly was getting tired. "This has been the worst and best day of my life. And it didn't kill me."

"And now it's over. And it'll never have to happen again." Jack pressed a kiss to Mark's hair, his heart warm as he felt Mark's sleepy smile against his collarbone. "Good night, Markimoo. Get some sleep."

"Y'll still be here t'mrrow?" Mark was slurring, a sure sign he was half asleep already.

"I'll still be here." Jack tightened his hold on Mark, feeling the other man melting into a boneless sleep. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm Fantismal on tumblr as well, and I know a lot of you have also read There Will Be Flowers, my other Septiplier fic. I've been working some more in that universe, and there have been a few additional snippets posted there, scenes rewritten from Jack's POV. They're part of something I've been working on, but I've decided to open it up to your ideas as well. If you're a fan of that story, I suggest you check out my posts tagged kingdomsau and let me know what you think!
> 
> On Wednesday, we will return to superheroes.


	16. Plan V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've discarded all the other options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so amazing with your reception of this story! Thank you so much! I love every notification I get from AO3 that lets me know about a new comment or kudo!

They woke early in the afternoon with the door still locked and the curtains still closed, celebrating their first night of survival with gentle lovemaking. Mark had fussed over the cut in Jack’s arm, but Jack felt the old injuries and deep green bruises peppering Mark’s body were far more disturbing. Mark didn’t go into detail about any of the torture he had endured, but the way his eyes went distant when Jack touched new pink flesh in a jagged line down Mark’s ribs told him more than enough. Jack stopped asking questions and instead left bruises of his own on Mark’s hips, claiming the other man’s flesh as _his_ and his alone.

The first official task of their day was to get Jack some actual shoes. He had run five hundred miles in socks alone, but the cotton had already taken too much of a beating to be used again. He got himself some extra clothes too, packing a messenger bag with his own essentials. They bought hair dye at a pharmacy and spent the evening masking their bright hair and making a mess of the hotel towels.

They also purchased some other “essentials” to be put to good use later.

Jack refused to check the news or any of the messages blowing up his phone. Not today. Today was for kissing Mark and reveling in both of them being alive.

“It’s so weird to see you without the green,” Mark commented, running his fingers through Jack’s newly-brown hair. “You look almost normal.”

“Almost?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Normal until you speak. Then you’re still a leprechaun.” Mark kissed Jack’s cheek, chuckling as Jack swatted at his chest.

“You look all baby Markimoo again. I miss the red… but I like this too.” Jack flicked some of Mark’s hair with his fingers.

“At least we don’t stand out so obviously anymore.” Mark closed his eyes, pressing his nose to Jack’s neck. “How long do you think we can pull this off?”

Jack shrugged. “It’s going to get harder when they realize I’m bankrolling you.” Mark had withdrawn as much cash as he could before hiding in the cemetery, but they didn’t dare use his credit cards and flag his name in any system. Jack had his wallet on him, so he had full access to his money still. “I’m supposed to be in Ireland, not America. And when my prepped videos run out, it’s gonna be obvious something’s suspicious.”

“When’s that going to be?”

Jack was quiet for a minute, trailing his fingers over Mark’s bare arm. “...five days? I had a lot of time on my hands when you were with the Crusaders.”

“My channel’s already gone quiet.” Mark grimaced. “Though I guess everyone would know why by now.”

“What if we made videos on the run?” Jack asked. “Would that be completely stupid?”

“Vlogging our escape from authorities?” Mark asked, tilting his head to look up at Jack. “Yeah, just a little…”

“But think about it? What if they went viral? Of course they would, you’re Markiplier _and_ a super. We just film us, being our usual dumb asses, and America at least would laugh.”

“So?” Mark asked. “It would also give CC a trail.”

“I ran five hundred miles in a night,” Jack said. “I can go any direction. We can delay posting, or mix up the order. We’ll both post the videos, link to them, encourage our communities to share them.”

“And we’ll still get caught.”

“And we’ll be _heroes_. Not supers. Stars. If we can get the public to love us despite our plight, CC _can’t_ execute us without being the bad guys.”

“We’ll make it even easier to recognize us.”

“I think it could work.”

“Or it could get us both killed.”

Jack sighed, tipping Mark’s face up to kiss him gently. “Death is the end result of just about every option, Mark. I’m trying to be more positive here.”

Mark echoed Jack’s sigh, molding himself against Jack’s side. “Whatever happens, we’re in it together.”


	17. How's it goin' bros?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pewdiepie supports the supers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so incredible for everything you've done, all your kudos and comments on this fic! Thank you so much! High-fives to everyone who's been following me on tumblr too. Awesome to see you!

Jack had left his phone plugged in to his drugstore charger overnight, but when he woke up, it wasn’t on the nightstand. He looked at the door quickly, but the locks were still in place. Mark swatted at his arm, the glow from the little screen playing over his face. _He_ had taken Jack’s phone. “I’d’ve woken you up if something came in.”

Jack tamped down the flare of panic at seeing someone else handling his phone. There was all kinds of private CC stuff on there… but Mark knew everything already. He didn’t need to hide. He even knew exactly what Jack had said to Warfstache back before they had broken up. He’d been the one reading it.

Forcing himself to relax in increments, Jack tucked himself against Mark’s warm back, resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the news?”

“It’s crazy.” Mark was flipping through Google results. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. Markiplier is Warfstache! The Hunt is On! Super YouTubers?”

“How many are saying that you used your powers to gain subscribers?” Jack asked, nipping at Mark’s ear.

“Only a handful of articles, but the videos…”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t even want to watch them. Anyone supporting you?”

“Yeah, actually.” Mark tapped another link. “HuffPost actually wrote this OpEd about why I should be given an award, not an execution. And tons of YouTubers are making videos. Bob and Wade and SuperMega and Yami all came out in full support of me… and look at this.” He switched to Jack’s CC messaging app. “Luna sent you a link. I haven’t watched it yet.”

_Key, I know you’ve found him, because CC hasn’t. I got a friend to flex his own normal powers for him. Not that it was hard. He was already starting to make it on his own._

Jack reached around Mark’s shoulder to touch the link before returning his hands to the sharp V line of Mark’s hips. Mark snuggled back against Jack’s chest, turning the phone to landscape mode and holding it so they both could watch..

_How’s it goin’, bros? My name is PEWDIEPIE!_

“Luna knows Felix?”

“Looks like it!”

_I know what you bros are all talking about. It’s all I’m talking bout too. Markiplier. Warfstache. The pic was a lie._

The infamous Markiplier and Warfstache photo filled the screen. Mark bit his lip. “That was Daniel. He smuggled the Warfstache suit out so we could get that photo. I wish you could have… you _did_ know him.”

“Yeah. Not as Daniel, but as Ibis. He was awesome.” Jack hugged Mark closer, falling silent as Felix kept talking.

 _We ALL know what they say about supers. Dangerous! Evil! Freaks of nature! They’d kill us if they were let off their leashes!_ Felix slapped up more photos of Mark with every epithet: him freaking out over a horror game, struggling to pick up Chica, twisting his feet backwards, and squealing over the most adorable little Warfstache cosplayer.

Felix stared flatly at the camera. _Really, bros? I mean, REALLY? Come ON. You’re telling me THIS guy is going to murder you in your bed if you don’t kill him first? THIS GUY?_

There were too many pictures of Mark being adorable on the internet, but somehow Felix had managed to find all the best ones. Mark with puppies, Mark with children, Mark with his fans.

_For real, bros. Mark is one of the most amazing guys I know. He is a hundred percent dedicated to all of his subscribers. Not just them! Not just them! How many charity livestreams has he done? One two three four five… too many to count! How much money has he raised for good causes? And that number’s not even updated in the past year! Mark is… he’s always there when you need him. Whether you’re a friend or a family or a fan, Mark’s got your back. And when they said he was Warfstache? Fuck yeah, bros! Markiplier’s Heroes, that’s what he calls you bros who donate for his causes. And now he’s a real goddamn hero? Fuck yeah!_

_The world is a safer place because Mark’s in it, bros. It’s a better place. Look what Mark does for people. Look what Warfstache does. And you’re telling me this guy deserves to die? No. Nuh-uh._

_Mark always gived and gived. It’s time for us to give back. Let’s do it. Let’s save him. Hashtag SaveMarkiplerweneedmoreMarksintheworldnotless. Nah, that’s too long. Hashtag LetMarkiplierLive. Get that message trending, bros. Post it everywhere. Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube, fucking Pintrest! They’re out there looking for him. We’ve only got until they find him._

The video ended with the hashtag and a pink Warfstache mustache beneath. Mark was silent, breathing shallowly in Jack’s arms.

“Are you crying?” Jack asked.

“No,” Mark answered, betraying his own emotions with a sniffle.

Jack smiled, wrapping his arms as fully as he could around Mark. “Felix is fucking awesome.”

“I want to thank him.”

“Do it,” Jack said. “But let’s get dressed first. Pack up. Get ready to move. Then we can use the phone and maybe shoot a video and then blow this joint.”


	18. Life of the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on the run isn't always as terrifying as it should be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so incredible! Thank you for all of the love and support this story has received! Can you believe this is the last week? There's only one more chapter after this one in Warf and Key's story, but then Sight will wrap things up on Friday...and then that's it!
> 
> Hang on to your hats, dear readers, because we have one more kick before this ride ends!
> 
> (I do have a reason why the Game Grumps were not mentioned in this chapter, though it is never actually mentioned in this story. If you ask me, I'll tell you.)

_Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier. It's also Warfstache. And today I’m… well, I’m not going to tell you where I am. That would rather defeat the purpose of being on the run. But look! Look at what I found! IT’S A REAL LIFE TINY BOX TIM! I wanna take him with me! Who’s a cute little biscuit!? I bet he could fit in my pocket!_

Jack could move them five hundred miles in three and a half minutes. That was the extreme end of his abilities, though. To him, it felt like twelve hours of nonstop running, leaving his lungs and back and legs aching for hours after. Mark gave the best full-body massages ( _thank you, Momiplier, for teaching your boy how to use his hands_ ), but they still tried to plan their escapes for shorter hops.

More and more YouTubers were joining Felix’s rallying cry, posting #LetMarkLive in their videos. Game Theory spent an entire livestream playing superhero games and talking about superheroes and the important role they played. Team Edge came up with superhero-themed challenges that had to be undertaken wearing bright pink Warfstaches. Rosanna Pansino made superhero cookies and decorated them like Warfstache and the gang. Even the beauty gurus were getting into it, with superhero-inspired makeup and looks.

_TOP O’ THE MORNIN’ TO YA LADDIES! MY NAME IS JACKSEPTICEYE and I’m STILL running along with Markiplier. God knows why I put up with this dork! Gotta say, it IS a lot of fun! How many of you get to be best friends with a superhero?_

The first time Mark was recognized was in a small town on the shore of Lake Michigan. Jack had been filming Mark playing in the water when a little girl ran up to him and flung her arms around his legs, giggling “Warfstache!” Her father had been close behind, first apologizing for the mistaken identity, but then shaking Mark’s hand when he realized there had been no mistake. The actions of the supers had saved his wife’s life two years ago. Warfstache himself had actually been there, acting as a shield. Mark was moved to tears when they waved her over from her umbrella on the beach, and the two had hugged, reminiscing about the giant hive that had attacked the city.

Jack got it all on film.

Recognition came more and more frequently after that. Sometimes the camera alone was enough to bring the curious over. Sometimes the people who approached them were survivors of alien attacks, and sometimes they were fans of the channels. Sometimes they were both. Mark shook hands and hugged and cried, criss-crossing the continent with Jack.

Sometimes, Jack could forget that they were literally running for their lives. He was seeing more of North America than he ever had of Ireland. Making vlogs of their adventure took much less time than filming video games, and Jack had tons of time to interact with his fans online, answering questions and responding to comments. He never had to go four hours without kissing Mark, much less four months. Life was, in short, not half bad.

The party had to end eventually, though, and in a twist of fate, CC caught up with them at an actual party. Mark and Jack were dancing with some cute girls at a luau on a Florida beach. They’d been recognized earlier in the day and been invited to the party commemorating the one year anniversary of a super-deflected alien attack. It was an invitation Warfstache could hardly say no to.

Jack had just dipped his dance partner at the end of a song, grinning down at her, when the first shots were fired. He almost dropped her, looking around frantically for Mark.

“Warfstache! Key! We know you are here!” The officer’s amplified voice could be heard over the screams of the crowd. “Surrender yourselves, or we will be forced to take extreme measures!”

“Don’t fucking shoot!” Mark shouted back. Jack shoved through the panicked masses of people to find him. “There are civilians here!”

“Surrender now!”

Mark was crouched over a young woman, holding her bloody calf, trying to put pressure on a bullet wound. Jack grabbed his shoulder. “We have to get out of here!”

Gunfire rattled across the dance floor. Mark moved, almost as fast as Jack, getting himself in front of the injured girl, his skin turning mottled gray as bullets bounced off his back, only the first couple drawing flecks of blood. “Get _her_ out of here, Jack!”

Jack met Mark’s eyes, letting time slow around him to savor the moment. They had always been in agreement on this: one civilian life was too high a price. She came before them. Jack nodded once, scooping the girl in his arms and flashing away.

Mark stayed on the dance floor, trying to catch as many of the bullets as he could with his body, the only shield the partygoers had against their slaughter. “They are _innocent civilians_!” he screamed at the CC soldiers. " _Stop shooting_!”

Jack darted across the dance floor, scooping up each fallen person and dashing them to the side, to rough shelters of tables and bathroom blocks. He passed the injured off as quickly as he could, barely able to breathe while transporting bodies. He hadn't come out publicly as Key in their vlogs, but now that actual lives were in danger, Jack didn't even think about trying to protect his secret.

As the dance floor cleared, the gunfire focused in on Mark, still standing out in the open, still shouting at CC to stop firing. Jack couldn’t make out the words clearly, so fast was he moving. He got a man to safety, then another woman, a kid…

And then a sledgehammer hit him, knocking him out of his speed. Jack cried out as he fell sideways, skidding across the floor. Not a sledgehammer. A bullet. A bullet designed to take down Warfstache, whose very skin could stop bullets dead.

“JACK!”

Mark’s hands pressed against him, against his side, his face. Jack blinked slowly up at him, his body burning with every heaving breath he took. “You’re bleeding…” he said, or tried to, the words already slurring as he lifted a hand to touch Mark’s reddened fingers. “So much blood…”

“No, _you’re_ the one bleeding, Jack. Stay with me! Jack!” Mark hunched over Jack’s body, shielding him from the continuing gunfire. “Jack!”

The bullets were slowing. There was a beautiful woman dressed all in white behind Mark. Jack curled his fingers toward her. “Mar…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	19. Heroes Every Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the luau, Mark is left to explain.

The room was white. It was _very_ white. Not hospital-white, but the white of someone who loved to decorate with white. Also gold. Because “decorated” was certainly one way to describe this room.

Jack rolled his head to the side. He was in a bed. There was a butt in his face. Now, Jack wasn’t entirely opposed to butts being in his face. It did depend entirely on the butt in question, though, and the puckered asshole of a little black dog was _not_ on Jack’s short list of okay butts to be thrust in his face upon waking up.

“Euurgh…” Jack turned away from the pug butt with a grimace. The other side had a much better view (and a much better butt). Mark was curled up sideways in a white armchair by the window, his feet tucked under him, a tablet in his hands. He was looking at Jack, though, so much worry and hope crashing across his tired face.

“Jack?”

Jack tried to push himself up, but his abs screamed in agony and he collapsed back against his pillows with an altogether embarrassing noise of pain. Mark was at his side immediately, one firm hand on his shoulder. “No, don’t get up. Marzia said you’d be hurting for at least a day or two as your nerves tried to figure out what the hell happened to them. Jack…”

“...Marzia?” Mark was staring at him like he was trying to memorize Jack’s face. Jack was just confused. “Mark, what…?”

“You got shot, Jack. Do you remember that?”

Jack nodded, closing his eyes. He _did_ remember that. It must have been sheer blind luck on the part of the shooter, Jack racing through the path of a bullet that had missed Mark. He had never bothered to keep his eyes open for bullets before: Ripper had made his suit as bulletproof as she could manage. But he hadn’t been wearing his suit. “Fucking hell. 0 outta 10, do not recommend.”

Mark pushed his fingers into Jack’s hair, pressing their foreheads together. “You were gonna die. You were gonna die right there in front of me. That bullet’s designed to rip me apart from the inside. They’d only need to get one shot in me to bring me down, but you… you had no defenses.”

“Why didn’t I?” Jack opened his eyes, squinting up at Mark just inches above him. “Mark… why didn’t I die?”

“Marzia,” Mark said. Their lips brushed together as he spoke, not kissing, just touches. “Marzia was there, she was somehow tipped off…”

“Marzia?”

“Luna. Marzia’s Luna. Our healer, and ‘friend’ to Felix. She saved you, Jack. Saved you and got us both out of there.”

Marzia was there? Yes, Marzia, a beautiful woman dressed all in white. Jack remembered her standing out brightly even as the rest of the world had faded away. But if Marzia got them away, then that meant…

Jack turned his head to the left again. This time, it was Edgar’s face in his face. The pug licked his nose.

“...where are we?”

“Brighton. Felix’s flat. They gave us the guest room.”

“Because that’s not the obvious place we’d go at all.” Jack struggled to try to sit up again, fighting against his screaming body. This time, Mark helped him, wrapping a strong arm around his back and pushing pillows up behind him to support Jack’s weight. “We have to keep moving…”

Mark shook his head. “Absolutely not. You can’t even sit up, Jack. I’m not moving you until you can move on your own. We _are_ safe here. I think. Out of all the videos posted of that fight, not one of them included Marzia. If CC didn’t recognize her, I think we’re safe.”

“Videos?”

“Cameras. On phones.” It wasn’t Mark who answered this time, but Felix, standing in the doorway. He was holding a tray with a bowl and a glass of water with a straw in it. “CC firing on innocent people? Two unmasked supers risking their lives to save as many as they could? Story of the _year,_  bros.”

Jack glanced at Mark, then back at Felix. “Are you one too?”

“Me? Nah. I’m as perfectly normal as they come.”

“Nothing about you is normal, Felix,” Mark teased.

Felix pulled a face as he set the tray beside Jack. The bowl was full of a creamy soup. It smelled delicious. There were green onions and bacon floating on the surface. “You know what I mean. I only have magical YouTube powers. Marzia’s the super one.”

“How long have you known?”

Felix shrugged. “About her? Couple of years. She told me herself. I’ve kept her secret. Didn’t know about the two of you until you,” he pointed at Mark, “got unmasked and you,” point to Jack, “mysteriously ended up halfway around the world from where you last were, traveling with him. Wasn’t too hard to figure out that one.”

“We never said it, though…”

“Marzia told me all kinds of Keystache stories,” Felix said with a wave of his hand. “I knew you were at least _a_ super, cause Mark wouldn’t’ve hauled you out of Ireland if you weren’t. Figured you were Key. The videos of that last fight confirmed it for the world.”

“Everyone’s talking about it,” Mark said. “ _Everyone_. There are at least a dozen different videos from that night, and they’re on every news channel.” He picked up the bowl of soup, offering Jack a spoonful. Jack tried to take the spoon to feed himself, but his shoulder twinged violently and he had to let his hand drop, reluctantly opening his mouth for Mark.

“You bros are heroes,” Felix said. “Not Warfstache and Key. You two. Mark and Jack. You stood up against the people trying to kill you so you could protect the innocent. You didn’t do it as masked, controlled supers. You did it as off-their-leash renegades. You guys saved lives, while CC tried to end them.”

“There’s been a huge public backlash,” Mark said. “All over the world, people are turning on CC.”

“Marzia’s talking with The Brain and Sight.” Felix jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “They’re the ones who got her the teleporters she needed to get to you and get you out. I just made dinner.”

“It’s very good dinner,” Jack said, letting Mark feed him another spoonful. “Thanks, Felix.”

“I made it potato, ‘cause I figured you needed to eat your family first thing after waking up.” Felix reached out and ruffled Jack’s hair. “Glad you’re not dead, Jacksepticeye.”

Jack scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue at Felix’s jab, but Mark just laughed, his hand finding Jack’s.

“Hey, boys.” Marzia poked her head around the door, waving her phone. “CC’s director just stepped down. They've put the Brain in charge! He's gonna do some massive overhauls. I think you won!”

“We won?” Jack frowned at Mark. “Won what? What does that mean?”

“Won our freedom. Our lives. It means we can go home, Jack.”

“Home?”

“Yeah.” Mark leaned in, pressing his cheek to Jack’s. “Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the saga of Warf and Key. Friday will have one more chapter from Sight's POV, set during the last chapter, but then this story is over.
> 
>  
> 
> ...come on guys, did you REALLY think I'd kill Jack!? After establishing a universe with healers and not tagging it for eighteen chapters!?
> 
> Thanks for indulging a sadistic author in her flights of fantasy. I loved all of your comments last chapter.
> 
> NOW, question, because I'm really bad at popular stuff, as research for a project I'm working on: what are some popular Internet/YouTube ships that do not involve Jack and Mark's main group of YouTube friends?


	20. Deus Ex Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was happening behind the scenes to pull off Marzia's perfect timing (or how Fantismal really had this planned out but Jack didn't know)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually takes place during chapter 18, but as the very nature of this chapter means we have to leave Jack's head, it didn't fit in the flow of the story. I hope you enjoy this slice of a different life!

"That's not a good idea."

Sight glanced up from her laptop as her husband paced the room, drawling into the phone like the super he was. He caught her eye and rolled his, flapping his hand like a mouth and mouthing _blah blah blah_ at her. She giggled. The Brain always got testy when he had to suck up to the CC.

"Mr. Director, with all due respect, they're winning. I-" He grit his teeth, pulling a face. "If you show up like that... Mr. Director, will you let me finish?"

CC didn't know they were married. That they knew each other in real life, knew each other as supers. The Brain had figured it out first, of course he had, the stupid genius. He had nearly given her a heart attack when he called her out. They'd been dating for a year and were lying outside at night, waiting for the fireworks of a Fourth of July display. He'd reached over to take her hand. _Do you trust me?_ he asked.

_Of course I do, though I have no idea why sometimes._

He'd rolled to face her, staring at her face as if he were committing her to his memory. _I know who you are..._

_I should hope so!_

_...Sight the super._

Yeah, that had been heart attack inducing. She'd almost gone invisible right then and there to get away, only she was wearing normal clothes that would not have gone invisible and he had been holding her hand tightly. He'd shushed her, tugged her close, whispered his super identity into her ear and apologized as she beat at him with her hands. Stupid genius. Worst sense of timing, best sense of perception.

That had been the moment she knew she was going to marry him.

Living with a genius was hard, but he did his best to make it easier on her. It helped that despite being a nearly-insufferable know-it-all, he was also genuinely a huge dork and an even bigger cat-lover. It was hard to stay annoyed with someone you saw sprawled on the floor making baby-talk to your shared kitten.

While at the CC, the two kept up the impression that they couldn't stand each other. She had actually started it, flipping him off one day and grinning invisibly as he choked on his words, trying not to laugh. Their animosity had grown to nearly-comical proportions over the years. A handful of their fellow supers had reached out to her, all women, Luna and Ripper and Jollie, asking if things were okay, if The Brain had been inappropriate and done something to her, asking if he needed a swift kick in his oversized nuts to put him back in line. She'd confessed to them that it was just a joke, and now they were all helping her perpetuate the scene, siding with her whenever she faced off against him in the base.

He always knew when he'd actually crossed a line, though. He could be dumb at times, but he was never stupid and he always apologized. She loved him for that. He was the perfect guy, really, even if he couldn't figure out how to do his own laundry and hated grocery shopping.

Well... the laundry thing kind of sucked. She hated doing laundry too, but if she didn't do it, he wouldn't realize when their clean clothes were about to run out.

"Mr. Director, shut your _fucking_ mouth!"

Sight crammed the side of her hand into her mouth, biting down hard to keep her laughter quiet. As a normal human, her husband tried very hard to never, ever let a word more foul than "crap" escape his mouth. As a super, he swore like a sailor. It was all part of the act, the story that they were not who they actually were.

"I realize this is a goddamn rare opportunity. I get that they've been evading you at every fucking turn and you're looking bad. But _you're looking bad_! I guarantee that if you show up at that party with guns out, _they_ will not be the ones going down."

Oh dear. This was about Warfstache and Key. Markiplier and Jacksepticeye. Sight's giggles evaporated, and she put her laptop aside. Had CC caught them? After all the work The Brain was doing to cover what little trail they were managing to leave? He'd tracked down their suits and destroyed them before CC could get DNA from them. He kept them from freezing Jack's bank account like they had Mark's because they didn't have proof that he was the rogue Key, only suspicions, and they had no authority to act on suspicions. He hacked their accounts and fudged location data for their videos and tweets and erased check-in information from the various hotels and motels they stayed at. Warfstache and Key were the first supers who had escaped the Crusaders without being immediately caught by CC, and neither The Brain nor Sight wanted to see them get killed. They had to be careful, though, that CC never suspected they were helping the rogues. The Brain was CC's pet genius, after all. If they knew how little he actually followed their rules...

"All right, technically, yes, that godawful ammunition does have the capacity to take out Warfstache. Theoretically. If you manage to hit him in the right spot on the first try, or after enough of a pause that his powers calm. And yes, it will liquefy Key from the inside out. But if you kill them, you will make them fucking martyrs. They will be martyrs and you will be the goddamn villains and..." The Brain's expression was cold as he met Sight's gaze across the room. "Of course I'm on your side, Mr. Director. That is why I am trying to prevent you... as you wish. Yes Mr. Director. I realize you are in charge. Yes, Mr. Director. Yes. But I will ensure the record shows I opposed this idiotic move. Yes, Mr. Director. Of course you still have my support. Good-bye, Mr. Director. And good luck."

The Brain hung up and stared at his phone for a moment before throwing it into the couch as hard as he could. Sight tsked, rescuing it from between the cushions. "Good thing you're not actually super-physically-powered, or you'd need a new one. Again."

"All our efforts, all of them, wasted!"

"What happened?"

The Brain threw himself down beside Sight, his head falling onto her shoulder. She curled an arm around his slim shoulders, stroking his soft brown hair. She was only one of two other supers who knew The Brain _didn't_ thwart the 'all skin must be covered' super rule. Ripper had made him a fantastically realistic fat suit. Every time Sight saw him in it, she had to grin and be grateful for her own face coverage.

"Off-duty officer spotted Mark at a movie theater," The Brain grumbled into Sight's shoulder. "Called it in. Mark and Jack are going to a party tonight. They have a location and a time, so they're calling in a full-force attack."

Sight's fingers stilled. "At a party?"

"A party at which Warfstache is the guest of honor, because it's the one-year anniversary of an alien attack on Miami."

"A party," Sight repeated flatly. "A party to celebrate how awesome the supers are for saving people? And CC's going to attack?"

"The risk of casualty is a small price to pay for the chance to stop these two renegades from wreaking more havoc on innocent civilians." The Brain couldn't imitate the director's voice, but he tried.

Sight pusher him back to look him in the eyes. "They're going to _kill_ people. To _maybe_ kill Mark and Jack?"

"They won't kill Mark," The Brain shook his head. "They have to punch through his chest without hitting bone on the very first shot. They don't have anyone accurate enough if he's got a shirt on."

"But Jack..."

"If they surround the party, he won't be able to get out," The Brain said quietly. "He's fast, but he can't vault over a human without help. They just have to keep shooting in, and they'll hit him eventually."

"Or each other..."

"They'll have armor on. He won't. And if he goes down, Mark won't be able to keep evading. They'll eventually find a way to stop him...if he doesn't just flat-out surrender from getting Jack killed."

Sight held The Brain's gaze for a full minute. "What are we going to do?" she asked quietly, not wanting to think about her friends dying in Miami.

"We need a healer."

"Jollie," Sight said, but The Brain was shaking his head.

"She's too slow."

"She's the most effective."

"Speed is key," The Brain said with a wry little smile. "We need Luna."

Sight winced. "You've never felt Luna's healing."

"I've heard it hurts worse than the injuries," The Brain sighed. "But we can't help it. If Jack gets hit in the torso, he'll have seconds, maybe. Luna's our fastest healer. I think Jack'll be fine with a lot of pain if he gets to stay alive."

"Eh..." Sight did agree with The Brain, and she knew Jack would as well, though he might not feel that way at the time. Luna went with them onto the battlefield because she could heal them instantly. She had saved many a super's life when aliens and monsters and guns proved superior to their armor. Her powers repaired what was broken, but she had no finesse over her touch. Your body went from falling apart to fine, and your brain couldn't cope. The conflicting messages of _OMG DYING_ and _hey, nothing's wrong_ threw up red flags and your brain went into overdrive trying to compensate for what it was sure was catastrophic tissue destruction, triggering nerves to fire and pain to flare even though there was no damage left. It took time for the nerves to calm down, for the pain to subside and normal function to resume. If Jack got shot and Luna healed him, he'd be all but paralyzed from the pain for at least a day. "We'll see if he thanks you after the fact."

"Get dressed." The Brain sat up, rubbing his face. "I'll reconfigure the teleporters."

Sight slid off the couch and headed for their room. Her super costume was easy to recreate: it was a green morphsuit. Her official uniform had extra padding and armor inside, but after Ripper discovered the green-screen suits were the one color Sight could make invisible, Sight made sure she had plenty of spares in her normal life. Naked invisibility was terrifying.

When she returned in her suit, The Brain was sitting cross-legged on their couch, both of their CC teleporters on the coffee table in front of him. He was texting on his phone, probably warning Luna that she was coming.

"What's the plan?"

"This one will take you to Luna," The Brain gestured at her teleporter. "That one will take you to the party coordinates. You go to Luna, give her both. She goes to Miami, picks up the boys, goes back home. You reconfigure yours to bring you back here. She'll watch over them while I clean up the mess."

"Simple enough." Sight slipped the Miami teleporter into her suit, keeping the other one in her hand. They were flattened spheres with five buttons on top. The big one activated them. The smaller ones were used to program locations. None of the supers were supposed to know how they worked, they were just each given one that linked them to the CC headquarters...so of course The Brain figured out how to reprogram them and used the fact that he and Sight had two in the same house for cheap, fast transportation all around the world. "You gonna tell me about Luna, or are you going to make me be surprised like you did with Warf?"

"Luna is Marzia."

"CutiePieMarzia!?" Of course The Brain had figured out who the various supers actually were. He saw patterns and behaviors, extrapolating things like time zones and when they were active to pinpoint locations and likely identities. He had hunches on most of them and was fairly convinced of a handful that he had actually met personally. He didn't tell her, though, unless she needed to know. She wasn't confident in her ability to hide secrets as well as he was. "Why are so many supers YouTubers?"

The Brain, also known as MatPat the Game Theorist, gave her a dry look. "For the same reason we are."

"Huh." Steph twisted her long hair into a messy bun, pinning it in place. "Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question." Their YouTube life gave them the best hours to save the world. It made sense that the other supers who showed up frequently for missions had the same lackadaisical work hours. Not all YouTubers were supers, and not all supers were YouTubers, but they did seem to be unusually closely linked. "Is Felix?"

"Not as far as I can tell." Matthew stretched his arms over his head, then got to his feet and caught Steph by the hips. "You be careful, okay?" He touched his nose to hers, showing his concern openly. "If they find out we're doing this..."

"They've never found out," Steph answered quietly, leaning up to kiss him gently. "And I'm always careful."

"I hate you going on missions."

"But I need to."

Matthew sighed, tucking his face against her hair and taking a deep breath. "Love you."

"Love you too." Steph nuzzled Matthew's cheek before taking a step back. She drew her hood up, covering her face, and faded from sight. Only the teleporter in her hand remained visible. Matthew took a step back, gathering up Skip in his arms so the cat wouldn't be accidentally teleported along with the invisible woman. "I'll be back before you know it."

"I'll be waiting..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to everyone who has come along for this story! A huge thanks goes to Eltrkbarbarella, who told me to write this, drew me pictures, and dragged me into the world of actually writing Septiplier. Without her, none of this would have happened.
> 
> I do have another massive Septiplier story collaboration underway, but as always, nothing will be posted until the story is done. In the meantime, feel free to follow me on tumblr (fantismal.tumblr.com) and give me a message or ask. I love talking to you guys!
> 
> I might be writing other stuff while working on the big project. I have no other plot bunnies right now, but I'm always open to adopting some. I'm terrible at requests, though. You have to give me a big fluffy bunny with sad eyes to catch my interest...


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